


Aliit bal Ara'nov

by steelphoenix



Series: Resol'nare [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Description of Birth, Escaping from an abusive relationship, Fluff, Forced Pregnancy, I am not kidding this is going to be Ridiculously Fluffy around the frankly nasty setup, I promise there will be actual Romance in the next (big) fic, Kidfic, Mandalorian Culture, Other, Paz is also a Dadalorian fight me, Slow Burn, The Armorer is a Momalorian, is this a meet-cute? I'm calling it a meet-cute, misgendering of a non-binary person, non-binary characters, overprotective Mandalorians, overuse of Mando'a, technically this is pre-relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 51,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25577899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelphoenix/pseuds/steelphoenix
Summary: Fleeing from an abusive marriage, Jarey Paraktan finds themself unexpectedly saved by a Mandalorian and taken into their Covert. They hadn't hoped for anything other than safety, but they might just find their place in the galaxy as well.
Relationships: Paz Vizsla/Original Non-Binary Character
Series: Resol'nare [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1865209
Comments: 82
Kudos: 83





	1. The Flight

**Author's Note:**

> So we know zero (0) things about Paz Vizsla, but like… let me project, okay? Inspired by three things:  
> \- A piece of dialogue in _A Source of Warmth_ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/21868186/chapters/52194310): "[A bounty hunter] managed to find the door. Came down the steps straight into our gathering. If you saw his expression when he realised he'd just walked into a whole group of Mandalorians, you'd have laughed."  
> \- Mandalorians being (CANONICALLY) absolutely bananas over kids.  
> \- I love me some Lorge Hevy Bois being Soft™.
> 
>  _Vor entye_ (thank you, I owe a debt) to CoffeeQuill, for the inspiration line, and also to Author376 and AtinBralor for their _Drashaar_ series (https://archiveofourown.org/series/220559), which inspired large parts of my interpretation of Mandalorian culture, and also prodded me into reading the Republic Commando series (which has Issues but great concepts).  
>  _Vor entye_ also to FictionQuxxn and CobraOnTheCob for their beta and editing work!
> 
> It's been confirmed that 'Vizla' was a misspelling and Paz's family name is 'Vizsla' (source: https://www.bobafettfanclub.com/news/fettpedia/this-is-the-way-paz-vizla-became-paz-vizsla/).
> 
> Be aware that the setup of this fic deals with marital abuse, marital rape, forced pregnancy, and repeated misgendering of an non-binary/enby person (some accidentally, but it happens). Please take care of yourselves! Also any flames about a non-binary character or using singular 'they' will be used in the forge.
> 
> Mando'a translations at the end of each chapter, though hopefully they should be fairly straightforward. 
> 
> This work is complete and going through the editing process; I will be posting every Tuesday and Friday evening (GMT). Tags will be updated throughout so as not to spoiler (during initial posting, anyway).

Jarey knew that hiding in the sewers was foolish at best, but they were out of options at this point - if they had really had any options from the moment they had left their childhood home to go to their new husband. If they had ever really had any options in their _life_.

At least Orsic wouldn't think of the sewers as a possible hiding place - too dirty and far too lower-class for him. As heir to Imperial governor - were they Imperial any more, now that there wasn't an Emperor? - he would barely set foot in the Imperial base in the city, let alone outside of it. To him, it didn't matter that Nevarro was the back end of nowhere and of so little value that they hadn't had a single Rebel attack, he was still heir to the governor and an Imperial Officer, and refused to lower himself. It was testament to how desperate Orsic was to retrieve Jarey and their precious burden that he had not only had stormtrooper patrols searching the city, but had actually started coming out of the base himself.

Even if Orsic himself wasn't terribly bright - something that Jarey had, shamefully, used against their husband - the stormtroopers weren't. The last two days had proved that they knew how to set up a grid pattern and they knew who to ask if they'd seen a pregnant woman (ugh) passing. Jarey had stolen a black stormtrooper undersuit, which compressed their belly somewhat, but a six-month pregnancy was hardly unnoticeable, even swathed in the loosest, dullest clothing they could beg, borrow or steal. The troopers had gradually worked their way from the better areas of the city, close to the base, to the middle-class areas, and now they were in the poorest areas and still hadn't given up.

Jarey had hoped, when they had fled, that the search history they'd left on their holocomm would have pointed to hiring a ship offworld, but either they'd seen through it or were taking precautions. Admittedly, those searches had been useful, because now Jarey knew far more than a gently-born Imperial Official's daughter (ugh) should about hiring mercenaries and covert transport, and they'd have to get offworld _somehow_ , but for now there were more urgent concerns. The baby moved, more sluggishly than before Jarey's flight, and gently, Jarey ran their hands over their belly, a shock of shaky concern shivering through them. The baby _must_ be protected from Orsic. Anything could happen to Jarey, but the baby _had_ to be safe.

With a shaky sigh, Jarey dropped their hood back, leaning further back into the sunset shadows, and scraped their sloppily-cut hair back into a scruffy tail with shaking hands. A brief pang cut the ever-present adrenaline - their long, sleek, always-immaculately-arranged black hair had been one of the few things that they had _liked_ about being a respectable Imperial trophy wife - but it had been necessary to cut it off, it was far too distinctive. Shucking their cloak, they shoved it into their pitiful bag of supplies, and leaned down to the sewer grate. Unexpectedly, it lifted easily and silently, but Jarey wasn't looking a gift nerf in the mouth, so they took a last fresh-ish breath of air, and crouched down, preparing to somehow lower themself into the sewer.

Their first tentative, probing foot landed maybe thirty centimetres down on worn-smooth duracrete, and clean of the expected muck of a sewer. Suddenly apprehensive, they paused, and in that moment there was the distinctive crackle of a stormtrooper vocoder further down the alley. "Citizen. Stop. Your identity card is required."

Jarey froze, icy terror washing over them. The heavy tread of a stormtrooper patrol pair came along the alley, stopping behind them. Their knees were shaking, but their feet couldn't move. "Citizen, your identity card," said the other trooper, and Jarey registered the lighter tones of a possibly-female person. A hysterical thought rose: _they're sending out the female troopers because they're less threatening_ , and the sheer ridiculousness of the Imperial Commander actually _making use_ of the female troopers he so despised somehow unfroze their limbs. With a lurch, they swung their other leg down, ignoring the request. "Citizen, we are authorised to stun if you do not cooperate," came the trooper's voice, harder and more insistent, and it jolted Jarey into motion. They barely avoided smacking their head as they stumbled down into the grey gloom of the sewer, horror at the thought of having to go back screaming through them in a frigid torrent.

Above - behind - them came the beep of one of the troopers opening comm lines, and then, "CT-8569 reporting, Sergeant. Possible lead on the target, sector 25-peth-wesk-mern - yes, sergeant…" It faded out as Jarey got their feet under them and began to run as best they could, careening through the near-dark, pulse hammering and hunched over their belly and the adrenaline choking their throat and desperately trying not to gag because now there was muck and stink.

It was some interminable time later when Jarey panted to a stop in a cul-de-sac somewhere in the sewers. It was darker than ever, and they didn't have a flashlight, so they'd run into several walls. It seemed like the stupidest oversight in the galaxy, but Jarey hadn't even gone camping when they were a child and had had to guess. Badly, it seemed. " _Karking - starsdamned - asshole_ ," they panted out, swaying between terror and white-hot anger, clutching alternately at the stitch in their side and their belly, where the baby was rolling and kicking in obvious distress. Tentatively, they felt forward in the darkness, and it seemed that their seesawing luck had fallen to the good again, because there was some sort of ledge there, and Jarey collapsed on it, barely even remembering to swing their bag down from their back.

They lay there on the freezing, unyielding probably-duracrete, panting and murmuring soothing nothings, patting their belly and trying to calm the baby. It seemed to be working, and as the baby stilled, Jarey's pulse lowered and they relaxed into their momentary refuge. The adrenaline began to drain and Jarey lay there, dizzy and nauseous and trying not to cry. Shakily, they hauled the bag open and pulled out the cloak, clumsily wrapping it around to try to keep some sort of warmth.

The baby kicked again, right in Jarey's bladder, and suddenly they badly needed to urinate, and reality crashed down - they couldn't even access a fresher. The last two days, they'd managed to slip into stores and cantinas and once even a speeder-repair shop to do the necessary, and now they were in the sewers with no light and no heat, a handful of expired ration bars and half a canteen of water, and _nowhere to go to the fresher_.

That was the final straw, and the tears burst forth almost of their own accord. Suddenly, they were shaking so hard that their teeth were chattering - or was that the cold? - face scrunched up, sobbing as aching limbs hunched around the reason that they couldn't go back, the reason they'd been shaken out of the numbing, excruciating monotony of years of abuse and control and manipulation and denial and _we must do anything and everything to get you with child, Jareilia, yes, every night is necessary_. The reason that they could not fail. And they were failing, failing their baby, their precious child that they hadn't even met yet and had to protect.

As the storm of weeping began to ebb, Jarey shuddered and slumped on the ledge, curling exhausted around their precious burden, and fell into a weary, heartsick, terrified sleep.

* * *

The sound that woke Jarey wasn't obvious. Even in the sewers, there were background noises of splashing water (and other things), the hum of fans and pumps, the clanks of pipes and valves. This was a different noise, the sound of plastoid-on-plastoid. Jarey startled fully awake with shock as they realised that it was familiar, the once-comforting sound of stormtrooper armour. They were coming and there was nothing Jarey could do about it.

Dunked straight into icy terror and frantic, Jarey scuttled back along the ledge, hoping to conceal themself in the shadows. Maybe pretend to be a pile of trash and rags? Their questing fingers reached the edge of the ledge and Jarey slid off, kneeling and then curling themself as small as possible beside the obstacle, burying their head in their knees, knowing with sick, coiling dread that it wasn't enough. The heavy steps came closer, bright lights searching in erratic patterns across the walls, and the quiet buzz of troopers chatting amongst themselves, the _clack-clack-clack_ of plastoid.

The lights played across the entrance to the little cul-de-sac they were hiding in, and Jarey desperately muffled a whimper in their sleeve, biting down on their bottom lip, hunching down around their baby and knowing they were shaking.

The troopers paused at the entrance, playing helmet lights down the length of it, and Jarey squeezed their eyes desperately shut, petrified tears sliding down their face and the metallic sting of blood flooding their mouth as one of the troopers said, "There's something there - checking it out," and then the steps started coming towards them.

Then there was a brief huff of breath, a _shhik_ of metal-on-metal, and then someone moved past Jarey with a smooth and purposeful step. The stormtrooper blurted out a, "Hey!" and then Jarey heard a bubbling, gurgling sound and something - _someone_ \- slumped to the ground. The troopers were moving in a panicked hail of clacking and the screech of arming blasters.

Jarey shoved their hands over their ears and tried to muffle the sounds of what they knew was a fight, knew was death, knew was something they had only seen a handful of times before and never wanted to see up close. The dull thuds and cracks, pinging blaster shots, cries, clangs of metal-on-metal.

It stilled, and then there was a groaning, and one, last, horrible crack.

There was silence, broken only by a thin, keening whimpering. It took too long for Jarey to realise that it was _them_ , that they were making that sound. They slowly uncurled, shaking like a leaf, gasping and heedless of the tears and blood streaming down their face. The baby was moving, kicking, but Jarey almost didn't notice as the person - their saviour? - had walked up to them in that time, and Jarey forced themself to look up.

In the eerie dimness of the stormtroopers' now-stilled helmet lights, there was little detail, but Jarey could make out a large figure wearing armour of some type - blue? - with a very large cannon on some kind of backpack. As the person knelt, unexpectedly graceful for someone so large, Jarey could make out the helmet detail and then they couldn't move, couldn't breathe because they had done their history lessons in school and knew what that T-visor meant and _they were going to die_. They were whimpering again, they couldn't help it.

As they remained frozen, the Mandalorian reached out, gently tipped up Jarey's chin and wiped the blood off their lips with a thumb. "Oh, _vod'ika_ , you're okay now. _K'uur, k'uur. Udesii_ ," the voice was a gentle rumble, even through the vocoder, and the contrast with Jarey's expectation undid them completely. They slumped, and the last thing they knew was strong arms catching and holding them in a gentle, armoured embrace.

* * *

Jarey came conscious slowly, sensation first. The first awareness was of something soft beneath their back, their feet raised on a pillow, shoes off. A gentle hand was stroking one of Jarey's ankles, almost absently, and other firm, competent hands - a medic's? - were checking their pulse. "She appears to be well-nourished and in good health, so nothing to worry about there. Her clothes are in good condition, and definitely Imperial make, so Ka'ra only know why she was in the sewers, especially in her condition."

"She was definitely hiding from the troopers. She's got to be in trouble of some sort." The deep rumble of the response abruptly reminded Jarey of where they were and what was going on, and who was there. Their eyes popped open, and they were about to startle upwards, but hands held their shoulders down, firm but not hurting. Jarey blinked the blurry gunk out of their eyes and abruptly realised that the person they'd taken for a medic was also in a Mandalorian helmet and teal-green armour.

The fear swelled and the warm, yellow-lit room was suddenly cold. Jarey shrank back from that implacable hold, but the bed was in an alcove and they only succeeded in jamming themself up against the wall. Had they escaped Orsic only to land in worse trouble? Had Orsic put out a bounty for them, were they going to be dragged back in disgrace and suffer an 'accident', like Orsic's first wife probably had? Would they sell both Jarey and the baby as slaves? They could feel themself starting to hyperventilate, cold creeping up legs and arms.

" _Udesii_. Calm down, you're safe," came the deep voice from down by Jarey's feet, and they stared at its source, the sheer ridiculousness of the statement stopping the panic attack in its tracks. The Mandalorian there was the same one that had killed the stormtroopers, hulking in massive blue armour, fresh dark blood spatter on their chest. Their hand was resting on Jarey's ankle, thumb still absently stroking. "You're safe," they repeated, and then added, "Your child too."

"Paz, hands off, she's scared," said the green Mandalorian, scolding, and the blue one - Paz? - snatched their hand away as if burned, mumbling an apology that sounded genuinely shamefaced. Jarey barely noticed the misgendering, so used to it from Orsic and too shocked by this unexpected show of respect. "Sorry about the _di'kut_ , he's always been far too physical for his own good," added the green one, reaching out to rap an armoured knuckle on Paz's helmet with a light _thonk_.

Jarey's head was whirling in confusion. These Mandalorians seemed genuinely friendly, or at least not hostile, and the green one acted towards Paz like he was their errant younger brother. It was a far cry from what Jarey had expected, given the fearsome reputation born of galactic conquest, infamous bounty hunters, and the clones of the Clone Wars. They stared at the Mandalorians, completely unable to compute, hovering shaky and chilled on the edge of another panic attack.

"Hey, hey, eyes on me," said the green one, tapping their fingers on their chest. "I need you to breathe with me, neither you nor your child need a panic attack right now. If you can't look at me directly, look at my shoulder," they tapped their orange shoulder armour where there was a black medic symbol, and Jarey just… stared. There were too many emotions, just too much going on. Numbly deciding that they couldn't handle it, they stared at the symbol and robotically followed the instructions. _In-two-three, hold-two-three-four, out-two-three, hold-two-three-four_. The panic was ebbing but leaving nothing but indifferent detachment in its wake. _In-two-three, hold-two-three-four, out-two-three, hold-two-three-four_.

"Okay, you look a bit less hysterical now," said the medic after what seemed a long stretch of guided breathing. They leant over to a crate that Jarey hadn't noticed, near the head of the bed. There was a pair of mugs and a bowl with some kind of stew. "You're going to eat and drink, and then you're going to sleep. It'll be better in the morning."

A hint of gratitude slipped through the numbness at the simple instructions, and Jarey didn't resist as the medic guided them to sit up and handed them a mug. It was plain water, and Jarey gulped it down, barely realising how thirsty they were until they took the first sip. The medic nodded, seemingly pleased, and handed over the bowl. It smelled pungently spicy and delicious, and Jarey shoved in the first full spoonful without thinking. The tang and _burn_ hit after a second and Jarey swallowed, but that just made it worse, and they made a pained noise and flapped their free hand at their mouth.

Paz made a concerned noise, and Jarey looked over, "Why would you give me food that _hurts_?!" they blurted out, bewildered and oddly betrayed. Paz patted their foot consolingly, and then snatched his hand away with a mumbled curse.

"That's _aruetii_ -strength," the medic chuckled and handed over the other mug, and Jarey took a huge gulp without thinking. It was something sweet and herbal, and the burn went away almost immediately. "It's just _Mando'ade_ food, it gets much hotter than that."

Tentative, Jarey scooped up a little more of the stew, taking a much smaller bite. With warning, it wasn't as hot and actually very tasty. Heartened a little, they kept eating, and soon enough the bowl and mug were empty. Warm and full for the first time in two days, they were relaxing almost without meaning to, and the movements of the baby were small and comforting. Absently, Jarey patted their belly, smoothing their tunic and just breathing through the mess of emotion still hovering around.

"Fresher's across the corridor, if you need it," said the medic, and suddenly Jarey needed to go _badly_. The medic helped them up and out, and soon enough it was done, with a sonic shower that left Jarey feeling relieved and a lot less like a sewer rat. Paz had been lurking like a massive blue shadow in the corridor, and the medic thumped him on the chestplate as they passed, "Paz will keep watch on your door and if you need anything, make him get me. I'm Jaa'lir, by the way." They shooed Jarey towards the bed, handing over a pile of blankets and helping them to settle awkwardly around their pregnant belly.

"Why do I need a guard? I'm safe?" asks Jarey, and apprehension rises again - is this to keep people out or them in?

Even Jarey could interpret the particular helmet-tilt from Jaa'lir as a stern glare. "It's in case you need help and in case the Imperials do something very stupid." The medic tilted their head towards Paz, who was stood in the doorway, "And part of his punishment for making this mess."

Looking away and feeling more stupid and disappointed and _tired_ than they had since the last time Orsic had yelled, Jarey began to mumble an apology, but the medic reached out and placed a hand on Jarey's shoulder. "Not your fault, _verd'ika_. Paz lumped you with this just as much as us. You're here now and you've been given Refuge. We'll get you to a safe place." They patted Jarey on the shoulder and left quietly, turning the single light off.

Jarey was left, stunned and silent, curled on their side on the bed. They could see Paz settling down in the doorway, seated sideways, his blue bulk almost filling the width of the door. He pulled off the backpack and cannon, then removed his shoulder and chest armour and set it aside. He began to meticulously clean both cannon and armour, completely ignoring Jarey. It was reassuring despite Jarey's misgivings; Paz had come to their defence once without prompting, and surely he would defend them if it became necessary. He was very large and clearly well-muscled, even under the armour, a good defender. And they were warm and fed and comfortable. They could rest for now.

Jarey watched the play of the light and shadow from the corridor, the patterns on Paz's shoulders and the weapons, until they fell again into exhausted sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be a one-shot. I found myself 6k words in and realised it was not going to be one.  
> For reference, weeks will be assumed to be seven days, and months thirty days, because I am NOT calculating the time differences of a pregnancy with five-day weeks and god-knows-how-long months.
> 
>  _Aliit bal Ara'nov_ \- Tribe and Self-Defence. Part of the _Resol'nare_ , the Six Actions that define a Mandalorian: _Ba'jur bal beskar'gam_ (education and armour), _ara'nov bal aliit_ (self-defence and the tribe), _Mando'a bal Mand'alor_ (language and leader).  
>  _Vor entye_ \- Thank you, literally 'I accept a debt (to you)'. Shortens to _vor'e_.  
> Nerf - The Star Wars equivalent of the cow. They are furred like Highland cattle, have four horns, and are quite smelly.  
>  _Vod'ika_ \- _Vod_ (sibling/brother/sister) and _'ika_ (diminutive suffix), an affectionate address of a sibling (usually younger), equivalent to 'kid/kiddo/li'l sis/baby bro'.  
>  _K'uur_ \- Hush.  
>  _Udesii_ \- Calm down, take it easy, relax.  
>  _Ka'ra_ \- Stars, a mythological council of fallen rulers.  
>  _Di'kut_ \- Idiot.  
>  _Aruetii_ \- Foreigner, a non-Mandalorian.  
>  _Mando'ade_ \- Children of Mandalore, Mandalorians.  
>  _Verd'ika_ \- 'Little warrior', a diminutive generally used for a child/teen.
> 
> Faceclaim for Jarey: Crystal Liu Yifei (1.7m, 5'7")  
> Faceclaim for Paz: Jason Momoa (1.93m, 6'4")


	2. The Refuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exposition! Also please bear with the slightly unrealistic speed at which trust is given.

Paz's night sitting in the refugee's doorway was definitely not going to be his last, he knew.  _ Baar'ur _ Jaa'lir had assigned him there probably on the spur-of-the-moment, but he couldn't imagine that the  _ Goran-Alor _ would object, it was punishment fitting the crime if she decided that he'd erred in bringing the refugee into the Covert.

He'd admit that the first thing that he'd thought when he saw the huddled shape on the heat-cams at one of the Covert's secret entrances wasn't good.  _ Pathetic, spice-addled sewer-rat _ , he'd labelled the person, and only when the proximity alarms had gone off for the stormtroopers had he had some concern that the person might have brought Imperials down on the Covert.

He'd been stuck in the Covert for nearly a month, his heavy-infantry armour too distinctive to easily get out to the spaceport, and was so twitchy and stir-crazy that even the vaguest chance of real action had heated his blood and blurred his judgement a little. He'd commed one of the other members of the watch to cover and slipped out the entrance, waiting in the shadows just in case it was necessary to defend it.

And then, as his external mics began to pick up the plastoid clacking of the stormtroopers, the person had startled up, and then tried to hide, curling over an obviously-pregnant belly. The barely-muffled whimper had sealed it - it was a sound of utter terror, and suddenly the picture had changed. This wasn't some sewer-rat looking to bed down long enough to sleep, this was a young mother-to-be, on the run from the Imperials, utterly petrified not for herself but for her child.

Paz was a Vizsla, Mandalorian to his bones, and he couldn't ignore the distress of a mother for her unborn child. He had to defend them from the Imperial threat. Adrenaline sang to life in his blood, and he switched his HUD from observation to combat.

He struck as soon as the Imperials were in range, using vibroblades rather than the cannon - even down here, the cannon would be far too noticeable. The first one went down without effort, their throat cut, and then Paz ploughed through the rest, stabbing and cutting, efficient and deadly, until all six of the patrol were down. One was still groaning, and Paz gave them the mercy of a quickly-broken neck. The troopers had gotten off a few shots, but only two were on target, glancing off his armour and never getting close enough to threaten.

The woman was whimpering louder, now, and Paz moved over to her as she uncoiled, looking up at him with wide, terrified dark eyes. In the dim light, he could see tears were pouring freely down her round face, and she had bitten her lip badly enough that it was sluggishly bleeding. She froze as he came up to her, her eyes settling on his visor and clearly recognising him as Mandalorian.

He knelt, and gently tipped up her chin, wiping the blood away. Clearly, she thought she'd gone from the frying pan to the fire. "Oh,  _ vod'ika _ , you're okay now," he said, almost involuntarily, soothing her like she was one of the children of the Covert. " _ K'uur, k'uur. Udesii. _ " It must have been too much, and her eyes fluttered closed as she slumped bonelessly into a faint. Nonplussed and a little startled, Paz gathered her into his arms, settling her head against his pauldron gently, grimacing as he did so. He wouldn't be able to carry her and activate the entrance, so he needed help.

Swallowing his pride and feeling vaguely nauseous as the adrenaline drained, he toggled the watch comm channel. "I did something stupid,  _ vode _ , I need a hand out here," he said, and there was a startled noise from someone before at  _ least _ three people started laughing.

* * *

Cleaning weapons and armour was always calming, but Paz was finding it hard to settle despite the rhythmic movement and clear results. He knew he'd made a mistake in so impulsively defending her, but the woman was in need, pregnant and vulnerable, being chased by Imperials. Jaa'lir and the Elders had agreed with his hasty decision, but whether that was because of fait accompli or because they honestly believed the woman needed Refuge - well.

He cast a look over at the bed where she lay, black hair in disarray on the pillow, pale-gold skin lit warm in the light from the doorway. Her dark almond eyes were closed, sooty lashes sweeping her high cheekbones as she dreamed, delicate lips moving with unspoken words. Without the stress and tears of the fight, or her fear when she woke up, she looked peaceful, fragile, lovely. She was beautiful in a way that _ Mando'ade _ seldom encountered - the soft, delicate beauty of those who had never wanted for anything. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. Between her looks and her pregnancy, she was stunningly attractive.

He was still staring when his HUD pinged a proximity alert of someone behind him, and he turned to see Jaa'lir. They were stripped out of their armour, wearing only greaves, vambraces, and helmet. "Is she sleeping?" the medic asked quietly.

"Yes," Paz replied, keeping his voice low, "Barely moved. Is that bad?"

The  _ baar'ur _ shook their head. "No, just means she's exhausted. She's probably been running for several days, and she's showing signs of dehydration."

Paz shook his head in disgust. How did a pregnant woman come to be fleeing the Imperials, and when she was so clearly upper-class? It could be anything, Imperials were scum. Returning to his earlier thoughts, he asked, "Did you agree to Refuge because it was already done, or because she needed it?"

"She needed help." Jaa'lir huffed out a quiet laugh and their helmet tilted in the particular way that meant they were rolling their eyes. "A pregnant woman, running from the Imperials? And landing right outside one of the entrances? The  _ Manda _ brought her to the Covert."

It wasn't like Jaa'lir to assign things to fate where they could have a concrete reason. He tilted his head, frowning. "You usually wouldn't give things to the  _ Manda _ …?"

"It's too perfect," the medic said, and Paz could hear the grimace in their voice. "The  _ Manda _ , the gods, the Force, whatever. Something brought her here. Maybe for no other reason that she needed the help, which we could give." They shook their head and shrugged. After a moment of silence, they lightly tapped against his pauldron and added, "Watch well," before heading off down the corridor.

He spent the rest of the night in the trained alert-resting of watch, mulling it over. Eventually, he decided that she was here now, so they may as well make the best of it.

* * *

The next morning, a Foundling brought two ration bars and protein-drinks with food-tubes. Paz was ravenous, so he scarfed his down without even bothering to do more than crack his helmet seals. The refugee had barely stirred, and she was still snoring gently as he set her portion down on the crate by the bed. She looked even more vulnerable than she had last night, curled around her belly, one bare foot poking out from beneath the blankets. It twinged something in his chest, the clear protection of her child.

He was loath to wake her, but she needed to eat, and the  _ Goran-Alor _ would likely come to see her soon to make decisions. So he knelt by the bed and reached out, gently laying a hand on her shoulder. She came awake in a second, eyes alert and scanning the room, settling on him and then the food. Paz frowned - he knew that behaviour, the instant threat assessment. Some Foundlings that came from the streets or bad homes had that, as did warriors who had been fighting too long. But she was well-fed and soft, round with the child, even a little plump. What had happened to her?

With every movement full of caution, she sat up, legs tucked up to shield her belly, hands resting on it unconsciously. Her eyes were trained on the food as she looked down at Paz, but she didn't reach for it. Emotions - fear, worry, hunger - flitted across her face, and for a moment Paz felt like an intruder, so unused to seeing facial expressions close-up that it was intimate and a little overwhelming. Sitting back on his heels, he scooped up and held out the ration bar and the drink. She eyed him, flitting to the food and then to his unarmoured chest, clearly trying to gauge what was going on.

With a quick, graceful movement, she took them from his hands - not quite a grab, but almost - and took a small bite of the ration bar, eyes fixed on Paz. She'd clearly learned from the _tiingilar_ last night. As the bland chewiness registered, she made a startled noise, and then stuffed a huge bite into her mouth, chewing enthusiastically. Apparently, ration bars' blandness and weird texture was better than a properly spicy _tiingilar_. Paz chuckled lightly, which earned him a dirty look. She repeated the caution and then voracious hunger with the protein-drink, and Paz moved back, letting her have space.

As she was finishing the protein-drink, his HUD pinged, and Paz turned to see the  _ Goran-Alor _ entering the room with the  _ baar'ur _ . Jaa'lir positioned themself in the door, but the  _ Goran-Alor _ came over to the bed. The refugee immediately shrunk back, paling a little as she saw the horns on the  _ Goran-Alor _ 's golden helmet.

" _ Goran-Alor _ ," Paz inclined his head in a respectful bow.

"What have you brought us, Paz?" the  _ Goran-Alor _ asked quietly, her gaze on the refugee. Mirroring Paz's posture, she sank into a comfortable cross-legged seat. The refugee relaxed a little as she did so, but still fidgeted under the  _ Goran-Alor _ 's scrutiny. The  _ Goran-Alor _ nodded once, and then began. "First, you must know that we will not reveal you to the Imperials," she said, and at least half of the tension disappeared from the refugee, and she slumped. "You have been given Refuge in our Covert, and we will not break that."

"What… what does that mean?" asked the refugee, still looking half-scared.

The  _ Goran-Alor _ tilted her head towards Paz. "You have been judged by one of our number to be a person in need, hunted by our enemies and a potential ally. Also, you are pregnant, and children and mothers-to-be are given great weight in our Creed." The refugee nodded, a worried line still between her brows, but said nothing. The  _ Goran-Alor _ waited a second, then asked, "Your name?"

For a long moment, the refugee was silent, and then took a deep breath and spat out, "I'm Jarey. Jareilia Ollurno. Née Paraktan." Then she stared at them defiantly, as if the names were supposed to mean something, clenching her jaw and adding, "I understand if you revoke the… Refuge… just please, get me on a ship away from here."

Paz was racking his brain for what those names meant when a low whistle crackled out of Jaa'lir's vocoder behind him. "Ollurno, as in the Imperial Governor?" Paz's jaw dropped as the refugee nodded, her lips trembling despite her clenched jaw.

"I was - am still, I suppose - the wife of his son, Orsic," said the refugee - Jarey - quietly. "I was naïve when I married him, though I was twenty-four and old enough to know better. He was over a decade older than me and his first wife died in a tragic accident, there was warning there. But he was charming and proper and everything an Imperial Officer was meant to be, on the surface." She snuffled, eyes welling up and her voice breaking a little. "He isn't a smart man and hates everyone who makes him look lesser, by  _ his _ definitions, and he's paranoid. His father's weak, but his mother's cunning and vicious and he's his mother's son. He's everything to her so he was never told no. And he likes getting his way. Any way possible. So when he wanted a son, and his first wife was infertile, she was disposed of… at least, I think so. And they found me. Well-educated, unimportant family, getting too old for a good marriage."

Paz was speechless, his gut churning with horror and blinding anger, and he didn't even have to look to his clanmates to know that they felt the same. He could see the  _ Goran-Alor _ tensed in his peripheral, her hands clenched into fists, and he knew enough about Jaa'lir's history to know their opinions. Involuntarily, a low, furious growl rolled out of his chest, the sound of a hunting strill that he'd learned as a child.

Jarey jumped at the noise, and then breathed out, long and shuddering. "I didn't really  _ want _ to have a child, but I didn't have a choice. He had all the power and I had no idea what to do. If it was just me, it wouldn't matter. But I won't let him take my child," she added, and her eyes spilled over, "It's my own stupid fault I was there - but a child shouldn't -" and she fell into wracking sobs, curling up over her pregnant belly, whispering apologies to the unborn child.

The  _ Goran-Alor _ was on her feet in a moment, and Paz followed her up. Jaa'lir was still in the doorway, but now their  _ beskad _ was in their hand. The tip of the sabre was shuddering ever-so-slightly with their too-tight grip. "I can have him dead within a rotation," they said, voice absolutely flat.

"No, Jaa'lir," replied the  _ Goran-Alor _ . "It is not the time for revenge." Jaa'lir made an inarticulate sound of utter rage, and she added, "Later it will be, when Jarey can strike the blow herself." There was a moment of tense silence, and then Jaa'lir subsided, sheathing the sabre and crossing their arms, hands in tight fists. Paz had never felt so torn: simultaneously, he was absolutely with Jaa'lir, wanted to crush this Orsic Ollurno, tear him to tiny pieces - but he also wanted to gather this abused, crying woman into his arms and shield her from the galaxy.

"Paz," said the  _ Goran-Alor _ , calling his attention away, and he flinched at the pure  _ beskar _ steel in her voice. "You will protect Jarey. She will give birth to the first child born of our Tribe in six years." He was nodding before she'd got the first words out; he would have done it even without the command.

She knelt in front of the still-crying woman, placing one hand gently on her cheek and lifting her chin gently. "You will be protected," she said, quiet and so tender it ratcheted tighter the unnameable pressure in Paz's chest. "You will be a member of this Tribe as long as you wish. You do not need to go back." Those were words of acceptance and promise, and Jaa'lir's gasp rasped through their vocoder as they realised what was happening.

Jarey's tears slowed, "You mean it?" she rasped out, staring into the dark visor, searching for something. "I won't have to go back?" it was a bare whisper, but the painful, pitiful  _ hope _ in it truly cemented the knowledge that this woman  _ needed _ to be protected.

"No. Never," the _Goran-Alor_ said, with absolute, unshakeable certainty, the kind of that promise would hold until stars burned out, and Jarey stuttered out a breath as she understood that she was truly _safe_. The _Goran-Alor_ pulled Jarey to her feet and faced her, gently leaning forward to rest her forehead on Jarey's. "Jarey Paraktan, _ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad_." Carefully, she pulled a rag from the back of her belt and began wiping the tears from her new daughter's face.

Paz breathed out, because that was an unbreakable oath, one sacred to all Mandalorians.  _ I know your name as my child _ , the adoption vow. Jarey was now a member of their Tribe, albeit one who had not sworn to the  _ Resol'nare _ , and she would be protected as such. Jaa'lir gave a wordless, happy noise, and Paz let loose a rumble of approval.

"What does that mean?" Jarey asked absently, sinking into the gentle contact with the unconscious eagerness of the touch-starved.

"I know your name as my child. You are one of us, now, and we will protect you."

* * *

Jarey could feel their jaw drop open as the horned Mandalorian's statement registered. My child? They'd been  _ adopted _ ? And so quickly? It was almost unbelievable. They had vaguely understood the Mandalorians' reactions to their story, understood that they were appalled and enraged by how they'd been treated by Orsic, but had never expected something so profound, so suddenly.

"But…" they began, and then closed their jaw with a click. Even if this was temporary, this was a well-defended place, and even if there were only three Mandalorians here, that was a formidable force. They were  _ safe _ .  _ Cared for _ . Perhaps even valued. They took a deep, shuddering breath as relief washed over them.  _ Safe _ . The gentleness of the hands on their face was enough to reassure them that it was true. Jarey relaxed into the soothing motions, the leather gloves cool and cloth soft as the tears were cleaned away. It was priceless, perfect in its unexpectedness. There was no more fear, no apprehension any more. Their luck had truly turned good, so good.

The trust deserved some kind of response, some gesture, and impulsively, they blurted out, "I'm non-binary. I'm not a 'she', I'm a 'they'." It was something she'd never told Orsic, or even her parents and siblings, distant and uninterested as they were.

Unexpectedly, the first reaction was from Jaa'lir. 

"Hah! Yes, another one!" The medic sauntered over and bonked a light fist on Jarey's shoulder. "Me too! Nice to have another non-binary in the Covert." For a second, Jarey just stared. In all their life, they'd never met a non-binary who was  _ open _ about their identity - they'd had to go deep into the weird corners of the Holonet to even get information about it. Perhaps it was something specific to Imperial society, that secretiveness? The medic was clearly a respected and accepted part of this Tribe… a Tribe that was now their own. Jarey felt a disbelieving grin break out across their face, and the medic nodded, then gestured to Paz - "He/his," - and to the horned person - "She/hers."

The horned woman tilted her head in acknowledgement, and then an absurd thought occurred to Jarey. They didn't even know their new mother's name. "Wait - what should I call you?"

The woman laughed, a pleasant sound that warmed Jarey to their bones. "Let's give you your first lesson in  _ Mando'a _ , the Mandalorian language: you can call me  _ buir _ . It means 'parent'."

* * *

As the person who brought Jarey to the Covert, Paz was the one who guided them around the Covert for the first time. The repurposed sewer tunnels were cool and dim, but there were curtains over doors and the walls were painted with colourful designs. They visited Jaa'lir in the infirmary - bare and with very little equipment, but clean - and Jarey was introduced to Elder Ruusaan and Elder Skirata in the kitchen. As they went through the tunnels, warriors turned to follow their progress with their visors. Jarey caught the - gaze? - of the smooth, featureless faceplate of the latest warrior to track them, and shivered as the warrior gave them a slow nod.

"The helmets - the visors," they began, and then faltered. They didn't know what they were going to ask. The facelessness was disconcerting, and they supposed that was the point. As well as protection, presumably.

"You'll get used to it," Paz said casually, as he let them towards the room where Jarey would be staying, their new mother's - their  _ buir _ 's. "In our Tribe, we don't take our helmets off, for the most part. Some will remove it with their spouse or children, but that's about it."

Jarey stumbled to a stop, looking over, trying to somehow figure out if he was joking or not. He carried on for a couple of steps, and then paused and turned back.

"You're joking," they managed to stutter. How could you really  _ know _ someone without ever seeing their face? How could you communicate?

Paz shook his head, and his voice was firm, "It is part of our culture. It is the Way."

"But… understanding - communication - without expressions?" Jarey asked, barely able to articulate. "How?"

"Well it's -" Paz began, and then stopped. "Body language. I'll show you. What emotion is this?" He crossed his arms, turning his body slightly away, curling in, shoulders slumped and gaze downwards.

Jarey's mouth dropped open. "Sadness." It was clear.

"And this?" Paz uncoiled, standing tall, armoured chest puffed out, hands firmly on his hips, chin tilted up.

There was something almost arrogant to the angle of it. "Pride?" Jarey guessed, and the laugh that they got told them they were right.

"It's a matter of reading the body rather than the face," Paz said, and there was satisfaction in his tone. "And we have gestures. Instead of a handshake or a bow, we use the warrior's clasp. Hand out," He gestured, and puzzled, Jarey stepped forward, holding theirs out. "First we have the open hand to show we carry no weapons," - he waved his hand, then reached out and caught Jarey's forearm about halfway up. His big, gloved hand encircled it almost completely, and the  _ beskar _ of his vambrace was hard against their arm. "We clasp the arm to show that we have nothing 'up our sleeves', we have no ill intent." His other hand came up, and tapped where their wrists were aligned against each other. "And your wrist and mine are lined up, showing that we share blood."

"And I clasp back?" Jarey asked, surprised at the symbolism of such a simple gesture.

"To show you are my equal and accept me as yours," nodded Paz, and Jarey did so, wrapping their fingers as far as they could around the brown-painted vambrace. "There, that's a proper warrior's clasp," Paz said, and there was a smile clearly audible in his voice. Jarey returned it, and thought that perhaps it wouldn't be too difficult to get to understand people without seeing their faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Jarey's at the Covert now! What will happen…? :P Yes, that was a lampshade.
> 
> Food-tube - Yes, I mean a straw, but large-diameter (like a bubble tea straw) and made of metal or plastoid. Trust me, it's the only way to get anything liquid easily in under a helmet without making a godawful mess.  
>  _Baar'ur_ \- Medic.  
>  _Manda_ \- The collective Mandalorian soul, both as a sort of overarching guardian spirit and the afterlife. Also the state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit.  
>  _Goran-Alor_ \- Another made-up portmanteau, of _goran_ (blacksmith) and _Alor_ (Leader/Chief/Officer/Boss), a blacksmith and leader, here the Armourer.  
>  _Tiingilar_ \- Very spicy Mandalorian casserole, the hotter the better. Mandalorians love spicy cuisine.  
> Strill - A Mandalorian predator, domesticated as a pet and hunter. Six-legged, hermaphroditic, drools a lot. Most adult male Humans/Near-Humans find the smell of them off-putting at best and repulsive at worst, though females and non-Humans do not. _Strille_ is the plural form in Mando'a.  
>  _Beskad_ \- Traditional Mandalorian sabre, made of beskar steel.  
>  _"Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad."_ \- The adoption vow, literally, 'I know your name as my child'. The ceremony is called _gai bal manda_ , 'name and soul', which it confers to the adoptee. Canon has the second word as _‘kyr’tayl’_ , but if it’s from ‘to know’, that’s _‘kar’taylir’_ \- so likely a mistake. Thanks to sootnose for pointing this out!  
>  _Resol'nare_ \- The Six Actions that define a Mandalorian: _Ba'jur bal beskar'gam_ (education and armour), _ara'nov bal aliit_ (self-defence and the tribe), _Mando'a bal Mand'alor (language and leader).  
>  _Mando'a_ \- The Mandalorian language.  
>  _Buir__ \- Parent. Can also mean 'adult who is caring for a child', but this is rare.


	3. The Adjustment

The next weeks were a flood of new and strange things for Jarey. The increased stormtrooper patrols meant that they were more than happy to remain secreted away in the Covert, though they could see how it chafed at Paz and some of the other warriors. They discovered within the first day that _everyone_ contributed, from the youngest to the oldest, and that everyone was valued. Both were so far out of their understanding that it stunned them every time - the firm care with which the children were taught, the respect with which the two Elders were listened to, the camaraderie between the warriors. At least once per day - often several times - they had to stop and just _breathe_ through threatening tears as they understood how much these people meant to each other.

They also discovered that they were _useless._

They couldn't fight and they knew very little about healing. They might have been adopted as the _Goran-Alor_ 's child, but they knew nothing about weapons or armour. They had no slicing skills and no facility with mechanics. They could sew and mend, and watch and care for the smallest children, and do basic cooking, but that was really all. The life of blandly inoffensive, ornamental trophy and baby-factory that they had been readied for as an Imperial Official's wife was pointless amongst these hardened, practical people. Knowing how to dance in five formal styles was irrelevant, as was etiquette, art critique, and Imperial lists of precedence; Old Alderaanian, Old Coruscanti, and Hapan were not trade languages.

Unexpectedly, it was _humiliating_. Being so incapable of anything of use singled them out of the Tribe, and though they were trying to learn, there was just too much. They very quickly became sick of the ubiquitous helmet-tilt that meant 'how do you not know that?!', and quick-and-dirty explanations of everything from trade practises to galactic history to weapons and ship choices. But they persisted, because despite everything, their new Tribe _cared_ . They never seemed to resent Jarey's presence, and every evening when the Tribe gathered in the _karyai_ , the big central room that everything in the Covert centred on, at least one person would go out of their way to sit next to them and explain something in more detail or teach them a few words of _Mando'a_. It led to laughing arguments when two people disagreed on the finer points of things - most often, weapons, armour or ships - but it was warm and accepting.

Despite the struggle, Jarey was beginning to understand what family, _aliit_ , meant, and why it was so important to so many people around the galaxy - and very quickly, came to the point where they knew would use their new, unpolished skills to fight and kill to protect the _aliit_.

\-----

It was another night in the _kar'yai_ , people ducking into the kitchen to take food, disappearing to eat, and then returning to socialise. Jarey was sitting in the corner with the Covert's slicer, Senaar, learning about trading and slavery in the Outer Rim, when Senaar's _riduur_ , Reku, came over with three bowls. She handed one to Jarey with a friendly nod and then caught her wife under the arm and manhandled her away with a quick, "Sorry, Jarey, she'll forget to eat if we don't do it now, I'll bring her back later!" amid half-hearted protests from Senaar.

Jarey carted theirs off and scarfed it down in their _buir_ 's room, barely paying attention as they tried to understand what Senaar had been telling them about slavery. It was a new and worrying subject for Jarey, whose only exposure previously had been heavily-supervised shopping and indentured house servants - who they now knew were slaves in all but name. The meal was spicy as usual, but Jarey gulped down water and headed back to the _karyai_ to get a cup of _shig_ \- the hot herbal drink they had had on their first night - and see if Senaar was back yet, because they had _questions_.

Senaar wasn't there, but Paz was, so after washing their bowl, Jarey sat down next to him and began to ask. They were deep in discussion when Senaar returned with Reku and settled down with them. Politely, Jarey thanked Reku for the food and it was waved away.

Paz's head tilted in a way that Jarey now sort-of-guessed meant 'concerned'. "Reku, was that from the common pot?" he asked, and his tone confirmed the guess.

"Yes?" replied the brown-armoured warrior.

"But that was properly _heturam_!" he said, tone surprised, visor swinging over to stare at Jarey.

"Really?" Jarey asked, equally surprised. After weeks of teasing about ' _aruetii_ -strength' and 'children's food', they had apparently accidentally got standard strength. They hadn't even noticed. "I didn't think it was spicier than usual."

"Well done!" Senaar laughed, and patted them on the shoulder.

Paz leaned over, and gave them a quick hug around the shoulders, then scruffed up their hair. "We'll make a proper Mando of you yet! _Hetikleyc_ next!"

"Warn me before you give me it -" Jarey began, pushing away Paz's hand, and then had to shove _really hard_ to make him stop teasing.

* * *

The children, whether born to the Tribe or Foundlings, were endlessly curious, especially about Jarey's pregnancy and the mechanics of birth, almost all of them content to sit for long stretches, small hands on Jarey's belly, waiting for the child to kick.

They'd gone to Jaa'lir to ask what was _appropriate_ to teach children at what age about sex and reproduction, and the _baar'ur_ had laughed long and hard. "Honestly, Jarey, whatever fits. Don't get too explicit, but it's never too early to teach the basics. Don't forget about consent!"

That had led to Jaa'lir, Paz, and a couple of other adults snickering in the background as a furiously-blushing Jarey explaining the absolute bare basics about reproduction. And emphasising that it wasn't to happen until they were much older. And then about consent. And then explaining about menstruation in Humans and Near-Humans. And then about marriage. And then about having children and why it was important.

And then explaining why, in small and gentle words, why they had run away from Orsic and the Imperials.

By the end of the brief, euphemistic explanation, three children (thankfully helmetless) were in tears, hiding their faces in Jarey's lap and belly, and Jaa'lir was hugging Jarey close around their shoulders, the unyielding strength of _beskar_ comforting.

"It's okay now, though," Jarey said, gently lifting one of the small faces and drying tears on a sleeve. "I ran away, and Paz saved me from the stormtroopers, and now I'm here in the Covert."

"But you were _sad!_ And, and, he made you do things you _didn't want!_ And you _don't want the baby!_ " wailed out Pakla, her blue skin flushed navy, and suddenly Jarey realised that their feelings about the child had changed. It had been a burden before - precious, to be protected at all costs, as all children should be - but nevertheless a _duty_ and something that Jarey hadn't wanted. They had been considering giving the child up to Senaar and Reku, who desperately wanted a child and couldn't conceive.

They _wanted_ the baby now.

Here in the Covert, where they were safe and accepted, cared for and trusted, maybe even _loved_ , they had a family. They had support and friendship, a _choice_ about their life. They were learning and beginning to contribute, and had gained a mental strength they didn't even know they had. They had gained an approving nod from Elder Ruusaan just two days ago at blaster practise, managing to hit the centre dot three times in a row.

Realisation hit like a speeder to their chest, sweeping away all other thoughts.

If they raised this child as a Mandalorian, in the _Resol'nare_ , they would never be their father's - their _sperm donor's_ \- child. They would grow up free of Imperial influence. _Ba'jur bal beskar'gam_ , _ara'nov bal aliit_ , _Mando'a bal Mand'alor_. Education and armour, self-defence and tribe, language and leader.

They would learn honour and dignity, ideals and pragmatism, endurance and strategy. They would know to respect themself and others. They would know the value of life - both in credits and choices. They would have every skill to survive that the Tribe could drill into their head. They would never be as helpless and naïve as Jarey had once been.

If Jarey ever married again, ever said the _riduurok_ , they would not marry an Imperial like Orsic. They would marry a free person - a trader or craftsperson, a mercenary or a mechanic. They would not be abused again, because they knew how to leave. And if they married a Mandalorian, they would be a strong and gentle man like Paz, a witty and capable enby like Jaa'lir, a wise and reliable woman like their _buir._

Tears sprang up in their eyes and they patted Pakla's little lekku carefully, and the words burst forth, suddenly-known truth. "Oh, Pakla. No. I didn't want a baby then, when I was an Imperial. But now - now I have a _family_ , I have an _aliit_. I have friends and support and choices. I have a _buir_ who is the best _buir_ I could ever have had. And the baby is going to be a member of this Tribe, this _aliit_ . They will be Mandalorian. They will be loved and protected and taught the right things, the Way and the _Resol'nare_. I _want_ this child now because this child will be everything a person can and should be, not some stunted Imperial lackey, and I want to guide them and help them grow up strong and honourable."

The children were staring up at Jarey now, brilliant grins shining through their now-stopped tears, and Jaa'lir was chuckling gently behind Jarey. Pakla lunged forward, hugging Jarey around the neck in the heedless, strangling grip of an overjoyed child. "You're gonna keep the baby! We're gonna have an _ik'aad_!" she yelled, and that was signal enough for all the children present to leap up and pile on with hugging Jarey, and by extension Jaa'lir. There was happy yelling and racing around the room and hugging the other adults indiscriminately, and Jarey was so stars-damned happy about it all that relieved laughter burst out, and they hugged Pakla and Kot'iru close, revelling in the newfound certainty.

They were safe here, supported and accepted, and their baby would grow up as a Mandalorian - and they would have the pleasure and privilege of watching them grow and become their own person.

* * *

Paz had gone from laughter at Jarey's awkwardness and the stuttering explanations, through newly-intense rage at the bare recounting of their experience, to joy and unexpected relief that the _ik'aad_ would be raised as a Mandalorian and the realisation that Jarey was probably going to swear to the _Resol'nare_ as well - even though it might take them a while. He was feeling a bit like he'd gone several rounds sparring with Tracyn at his most stubborn, dizzy and elated.

Another of the adults, Iviin, was standing beside him. He was holding one of the smaller Foundlings on his hip, nodding along to gushing plans for how she would look after the new _vod'ika_.

"Bad business," the other man said, and then had to let the squirming child down so she could race over to Jarey and pat their belly again.

"Yes," said Paz, "But Jarey's safe now, and there's going to be another member of the Tribe soon."

"How soon?" Iviin asked idly, looking over to the epicentre of the excitement. "Jaa'lir's going to need to read up, if they haven't already."

Paz chuckled, because he'd asked Jaa'lir if they were ready and got the procedure in truly _excruciating_ detail.

"Jaa'lir's delivered babies before, apparently," he replied. "And Jarey's at thirty-two weeks, so around eight weeks until they give birth. Jaa'lir's pissed as all hell that they don't have anything like the right kit if something goes wrong," he added, serious. "Though every indicator has been that it's been a completely normal pregnancy with no complications, but, well. Our infirmary is pretty basic." The Covert had so few resources, especially compared to the top-of-the-line Imperial medcentre that Jarey would no doubt have given birth in, had they not fled. Paz was still worried.

Iviin nodded, "Well, I'm going out towards Rhinnal for a bodyguard job, so I'll see if I can find anything cheap in the markets." Paz nodded his gratitude, pleased to have help in looking after the newest member of the Tribe. Then Iviin's helmet tilted and his voice turned sly. "So why isn't Orsic-the- _osik_ dead yet, if he did that to your _cyar'ika_?"

Shocked and a little insulted, Paz reared back, blurting, "They're not - they're my _friend_ , _vod_ , nothing more." He'd never done anything even vaguely romantic or sexual around Jarey - they were so hurt and sensitive that there was no way that they could possibly want anything of that nature. They were a friend, a _close_ friend, but there was no way that anything was ever going to happen in that direction. "There's no way - not after - I'd never hurt them like that!" He stepped closer to Iviin, looming and growling out, "Did you do something?!"

Putting up his hands and stepping back quickly, Iviin sputtered out, "No! I misunderstood, _vod_ , sorry! I just thought - you're so close, I misinterpreted."

"Okay," says Paz, and stepped back, relaxing. "Don't, either, or I _will_ take it out of your hide." Iviin nodded decisively, and Paz decided to let it go. Clearly it wasn't intentional. To make it clear that he had no ill-will, he went back to the original topic, saying, "The _Goran-Alor_ said that we were to wait until Jarey could strike the blow themself. Otherwise I'm pretty sure that Jaa'lir would have hung him by his guts within a rotation."

" _Oh_ ," Iviin said, and there was an admiring tone to his voice as he said, "They would do that, they're so protective of the _aliit_."

"As we all should be," Paz replied, satisfied with the response.

* * *

The choice that Jarey was going to make - for their child, and possibly themself - had prices and consequences, they knew, as with everything in life. But they had to find out what those _were_ before they made any commitment. And the best person to ask, without a doubt, was their _buir_.

They went to the forge, where their _buir_ was busy fixing a blaster that had malfunctioned. For a while, Jarey just watched, first the swinging hammer and then the delicate work with pliers and solder. It was mesmerising and meditative, calming. The baby settled as they waited, and Jarey basked in the peace.

"Come, _ad_ ," said the _goran_ , as she finally put the repaired blaster in the secured armoury cabinet. "You have questions for me."

They went to her room, fetching a pot of tea and mugs from the kitchens along the way. The _goran_ didn't press, just poured the tea and calmly sipped it through a food-tube, waiting for Jarey to speak. It was that, more than anything, that reassured them, that their _buir_ would listen to their concerns and help guide them.

"I… I'm going to bring up my baby as a Mandalorian - and I think I'm going to swear to the _Resol'nare_ as well, _buir_ ," Jarey finally said, a little shaky but a lot determined. "And I want to know what it _means_ . I know the words of the _Resol'nare_ , but what are the specifics? How do I become a good _Mando'ad?_ How do I learn skills? What about showing your face?" They let out a long, shuddering breath, and asked the real question they were worried about: "My child, will they ever know my face?"

Their _buir_ nodded and put down her tea. There was a moment of silence before she said, "There are as many interpretations of the _Resol'nare_ and the Way as there are _Mando'ade_. Most grow their own understanding of the Canons of Honour between the teachings of their _aliit_ and their own experiences. There are texts of guidance, from the Wise Chieftains' Commentaries to Mereel's Supercommando Codex, but every _Mando'ad_ must come to their own understanding. To your question of the helmet: many view it as the sign of most intimate trust, and will remove their helmet in the presence of close family, their _riduur_ and children. My belief is different: I believe that the helmet should never be removed around any living being, lest you become _dar'manda_."

" _Dar'manda_?" Jarey hadn't come across the term before, but from their shaky _Mando'a_ , could gather that it meant 'not Mandalorian'.

The _goran_ blew out a long sigh that crackled across her vocoder, looking away from Jarey, and her voice was very calm, almost flat, as she explained. "It means, literally, 'not Mandalorian'. But it's more than that. _Aruetii_ don't have the _Manda_ , the Mandalorian soul. Being born _Mando'ade_ , born to a _Mando'ad_ , means that you have _Manda_ by blood, but you still must swear to the _Resol'nare_. That is what truly gives you _Manda_. _Aruetii_ gain _Manda_ when they swear the vows. One who breaks the _Resol'nare_ \- a kin-killer, or one who doesn't educate their children or speak _Mando'a_ , a person who ignores the call of the _Mand'alor_ \- loses their _Manda_ , becomes _dar'manda_." She took a long breath, her breastplate lifting and then dropping, and her voice was a little shaky with some intense emotion that Jarey couldn't name, and she added, "Naturally, every _Mando'ad_ has a different standard. Some consider those who challenge the _Mand'alor_ to be _dar'manda_. Almost all consider Clan Saxon so, sellouts to the Empire. Some considered the New Mandalorians _dar'manda_ , and to some the Death Watch were _dar'manda_."

Jarey had never seen their steady, unshakeable _buir_ so… out-of-sorts. It was a little worrying, but surely they could help? " _Buir_ , what's the matter? Can I help?"

Their _buir_ looked back to Jarey, and puffed out another sigh, and replied warmly, "Oh, _ad_. You will make a good _Mando'ad_ , if you choose so. You value your _aliit_ so strongly."

Tilting their head in the 'you're deflecting' slant - and wasn't that a surprise, that they'd learned the body language so quickly? - Jarey said, " _Buir_ ," trying to inject the no-nonsense, no-poodoo tone that their _buir_ had used many times with them already.

The _goran_ laughed, throwing her head back.

"A _very_ good _Mando'ad_ , _Jar'ika_. It is an old pain, from many years ago, _ad_ , but it has not lost its teeth and I doubt it ever will. I fought in the Clone Wars, in the Siege of Mandalore, and lost much. Do not fear that it will affect you. But, _ad'ika_ , it is your choice to show your face to your child if you do not believe it will taint your _Manda_."

She had been called _dar'manda_ , Jarey realised. Likely by someone whose opinion she valued, possibly even her _aliit_. But it was also something she clearly didn't want to talk about now, if ever. "Okay, _buir_. I don't know. I've never worn a helmet, so I don't even know if I can manage it. But what I understand of the _Resol'nare_ … I think I want to be _Mando'ad_."

"Even children are given a time to make the decision, _ad_ ," their _buir_ said, and reached over to place a hand on Jarey's shoulder. "You would put on the helmet, and there would be a time of… trial? choice? We call it _Ca'nara be'Gaanaade_ , the Time of Choosing. This is a time before a Foundling or prospective _Mando'ad_ takes the vow to follow the _Resol'nare_. It is a time of guidance and learning from the whole _aliit_ , and is for both the Foundling to make an informed choice, and for the Tribe to understand their prospective new clanmate and guide them into full understanding of the _Resol'nare_. It is often a hard thing, to be of the _Mando'ade_ , and we will not force anyone to it. You can remain a member of the Tribe and my child, but understand that you would not be Mandalorian, still be _aruetii_ , and that carries weight with some."

Something in Jarey's chest loosened, as they realised that they could remain even without being fully Mandalorian, and they took a long, shaky breath, trying to stem the tears that had suddenly sprung into their eyes unbidden. They hadn't even realised they were worried about it, about losing their new family and the safety of the Covert.

"This is not conditional, _ad_ ," said their _buir_ , and Jarey couldn't hold in a sniffle. The _goran_ moved over, pulling Jarey into an embrace that was all warm _beskar_ and strong arms and comfort. "You are _my child_ , and I will not break that vow. I will care for and guide you, whatever your path will be."

" _Oh,_ " Jarey got out, and then burst into tears. They'd cried more in the last month than in the year before, and suddenly they realised it was because they were actually _feeling_ things now. Having real choices was hard, and _emotional_ , and exhausting in a way that just existing and letting things happen to them wasn't. Having people that were supportive and honest and _real_ was so new, and they _loved_ their _buir_ and Paz and Jaa'lir and Elder Ruusaan and all the children and warriors fiercely, in a way that they had never known before. The same way they loved the unborn child that sat beneath their heart now. " _Buir,_ " they managed to sob out, "I _love_ you," and burrowed into the warmth of her breastplate.

They felt their _buir_ shift, and then there were _bare hands_ cradling their head, holding them secure against _beskar_ , and Jarey let go, knowing that everything would be alright in the end, even if now was hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, Pakla is teeny Rutian (blue) Twi'lek.  
> This got way more heavy than I expected, and uh, the plot took a sharp turn that I didn't expect…? This stuff is all 100% my interpretation of canon and the old Extended Universe/Legends stuff, with a tiny bit of 'how would this actually work for real without damaging people too much'. Anyone noticing a certain similarity between Jewish philosophical interpretation and the philosophy of being a Mando'ad is not far off, let's say.
> 
>  _Karyai_ \- Main living room of a traditional north Mandalorian house - a single big chamber for eating, talking, resting, and even the last secure stronghold when under attack.  
>  _Aliit_ \- Family/Clan/Tribe.  
>  _Riduur_ \- Spouse/life partner.  
>  _Riduurok_ \- Marriage agreement/love bond, specifically between spouses/life partners.  
> Lekku - Head-tails, in this case, Twi'lek headtails.  
>  _Ik'aad_ \- Baby, toddler. Child under three years old.  
>  _Osik_ \- Shit. Literally 'dung', extremely impolite.  
>  _Cyar'ika_ \- Sweetheart, darling. Both title and endearment.  
>  _Vod_ \- Sibling/brother/sister, _Mando'a_ doesn't do gender. Can also mean comrade/close friend. _Vode_ is the plural form.  
>  _Ad_ \- Child. _Ade_ is the plural form.  
>  _Goran_ \- Blacksmith/metalworker.  
>  _Dar'manda_ \- A state of not being Mandalorian - not an outsider, but one who has lost their heritage, and therefore their identity and soul - regarded with absolute dread by most traditionally-minded _Mando'ade_.  
>  _Ca'nara be'Gaanade_ \- A made-up phrase, of _ca'nara_ (time), _be_ (of) and _gaanader_ (to choose). This is meaning a time to make the final decision, effectively a trial period, before a Foundling or prospective Mando'ad takes the vow to follow the _Resol'nare_. It's both for the Foundling/prospective to make an informed choice, and for the Clan to size them up.


	4. The Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue for the scene is exact except for translating one word into _Mando'a_. This was the point at which I realised that this was going to be a lot longer than intended.

When Din Djarin returned to the Covert, Paz was mildly annoyed that he'd taken so long to do so. With so few allowed out, long strings of jobs, however lucrative, were unwise for the safety of both the Covert and the individual. Din was one of the best hunters in the Tribe, consistently bringing in good bounties with minimal damage to both secrecy and person, and was particularly good at finding and returning the lost _beskar_. He was adopted by a Vizsla, and part of Paz's extended _aliit_ , so Paz would cut him some slack, but he still couldn't help but feel that his long absence was somehow unwise.

Din plunked down a camtono in front of the forge, and the _Goran-Alor_ opened it to show that it was full - _full!_ \- to the brim with _beskar_. Disbelieving, Paz picked up an ingot from the pile.

And then he saw the Imperial mark on the _beskar_ , and everything in his head died, white noise except for the scream of TIE-bombers reducing his home to rubble.

He forgot that Din had never sworn the vows of _skira_ against the Empire - that most personal of feuds, the most extreme of scores to settle, total annihilation - but only of _gra'tua_ , vengeance and hatred.

He forgot that any true Mandalorian dealt with the Empire under protest and for nothing but the most dire circumstance.

He forgot that Din had lost as much as he had in the Great Purge, if not more.

Flooded by the red, burning tide of hate and rage and grief and pain, he threw down the ingot and opened his mouth, barely hearing himself say, "These were cast in an Imperial smelter. These are the spoils of the Great Purge, the reason that we live hidden like sand-rats!"

The _Goran-Alor_ began to speak, her tone quelling, "Our secrecy -"

"Our world was shattered by the Empire with whom this _hut'uun_ shares tables!" Paz spat, not caring that he was probably hurting his friend and _vod_ , only caring about his own hate. And he wanted to inflict that on Din, for bringing this stained, tainted Imperial _beskar_ to their refuge. He stepped forward and grabbed at Din's helmet, trying to wrench it off and _make_ him the _dar'manda_ he was for dealing with the hated Imperials.

Din grabbed his hand and shoved him away, and Paz grabbed again, uncoordinated with shaking frenzy. Din twisted in his grasp, and Paz kept driving towards him as the smaller man struck out with a vibroblade, sparking off his armour.

Paz tried again for his helmet, and again Din slipped away, and the red battle-mist was descending as Paz drew his own blade, wanting to _make Din pay_ for his pain.

He sliced out, and Din caught his wrists in a hold that any of the Foundlings could have avoided, and the more rational side of Paz's brain struggled its way from under the crushing weight of emotion and _screamed_ at him to stop.

He shoved Din away and lunged, tip of his knife coming to rest on Din's jugular, right up against the lip of his helmet. It would become a killing strike with a mere twitch of his fingers, and his height and reach meant that Din's blade wasn't even touching his breastplate

"The Empire is no longer," said the _Goran-Alor_ , and her voice was icy, more _beskar_ than the ingots that lay on the table in front of her. Paz's rational brain could read the tone, knew that she was _absolutely pissed_ at him, for attacking a newly-returned clanmate, his _vod_.

Paz had won, but it hollowed out, his stomach dropping to his boots as the surge of emotion began to ebb.

She turned to Din, her voice gentling as she asked, "Have you ever removed your helmet?"

"No," Din replied, and suddenly Paz could hear weariness and uncertainty in that single word. His knife wavered momentarily.

"Has it ever been removed by others?" The _Goran-Alor_ continued, and Paz knew the words, saw Din shake his head, and shame flooded him at his rash, selfish action.

"This is the Way," she said, and Paz _knew_ that her eyes were on him, knew the rebuke in that tone. He repeated the words with everyone else, lowering his blade and sheathing it, shoulders slumping. She continued, "The Foundlings are the future. This is the Way."

"This is the Way," he repeated in chorus, starting to chant the words of the _Resol'nare_ and the Codex in his head. He had to think on this before he did something else stupid.

"This is the Way," he heard Din say, and he turned away.

* * *

Jarey had been at the back of the forge, watching. They knew that Din was a close friend and brother-of-sorts to Paz, and had planned on asking Paz to introduce them. They frowned; that probably wouldn't be happening any time soon. That fight, for all it had been brief, was the most brutal thing that Jarey had ever seen and had left them breathless with the speed and ferocity of it. They'd seen Imperial troopers training at the base, but the smooth, rote movements had been nothing to that vicious onslaught.

And now Paz had slunk away into the shadows, where usually he was on a guard rotation or in the _kar'yai_ with the children.

Clearly, Jarey had missed something very important in their conversations.

They didn't know where Paz was to ask him, and _buir_ was talking quietly to Din with the Elders, so that left Jaa'lir. The medic had stomped out of the room after the confrontation, so Jarey went to the infirmary.

"What was that?" they asked, sliding the door closed. It was better to ask outright, rather than dance around. Amongst the Tribe, it was more likely to get a good answer.

Jaa'lir looked up, realised who it was, and audibly sighed.

"That was Paz losing his _osik_ because he has capital- _isk_ Issues with Imperials. He swore _skira_ against them and the _di'kut_ sometimes loses his temper and forgets that not everyone else did."

" _Skira_?" Jarey asked, knowing from the emphasis that it was the key to Paz's fury.

"Vengeance. Settling scores. A personal feud. It's an oath of absolute destruction," Jaa'lir replied. "It's more than _gra'tua_ , which is vengeance and hatred. It's more personal, more complete."

Jarey couldn't help it, they sniggered. Trust Mandalorians to have _levels_ of vengeance!

Jaa'lir tilted their head, and the amusement subsided as they continued seriously, "Every one of the _Mando'ade_ I know of has sworn _gra'tua_ against the Empire. We'll deal with them only in extreme need - to recover _beskar_ , to save a member of a Clan, to rescue Foundlings - and we'll happily make their lives hell if the opportunity arises. But Paz swore _skira_. He'll never deal with them, and you can guarantee that every time he's out on Hunt, he'll have slotted at least an Imperial or two. He even actively helped the Rebellion. _Anything and everything_ to aid the destruction of the Empire."

"So because he swore _skira_ \- total vengeance - and Din didn't, and Din worked for the Empire to get that _beskar_ \- that was _beskar_ , right? - Paz was angry at him?" They were pretty sure that was right.

"That was _beskar_ ," the medic confirmed. "To understand Paz Vizsla, you must know that Paz's House, the Vizslas, were an ancient and noble House of Mandalore. They fell out of favour during the period of the New Mandalorians, and Tor Vizsla created the Death Watch as a way to get back to the ancient traditions of Mandalore. The Clone Wars were terrible to Mandalore, and after Pre Vizsla fell to Maul's hand and the Empire rose, they lost almost everything. And then the Empire shattered Mandalore and the Great Purge tried to exterminate us. He began life as a nobleman and is now in hiding in the sewers." They shook their head, and added, severely, "But that's no excuse to attack a _vod_ , forgetting that his oaths are different to yours."

Jarey nods, understanding that what Paz had done was perilously close to violating the _Aliit_ tenet of the _Resol'nare_. "He needs to apologise to Din, doesn't he?"

"Yes," the _baar'ur_ replied. "And if he doesn't, your _buir_ , the Elders, me, and most of the warriors will thump him over the helmet until he does."

* * *

Din's door was open in clear invitation, and Paz lurked for a few minutes across the corridor, trying to steel himself. He knew he'd behaved terribly, dishonourably, and knew he had to apologise for calling his _vod_ a _hut'uun_. The pain and rage still churned in his gut, but matched with them was sick shame.

After Elder Skirata (and wasn't that ironic) had passed and pinned him with a long stare, Paz sighed. He had to get this over with. He shoved off the wall and strode across to the door, knocking on the jamb to announce his presence. Din turned around, and there was a long moment where they just stared at each other before Paz dropped his gaze. 

"Come in," said Din, "And close the door." His voice was flat, but not angry.

Paz stepped inside, following the instructions, and immediately sank to one knee. 

" _Ni ceta, ner vod_ ," he said, tilting his head forward and exposing the back of his helmet and neck, and unclipping his chinstrap with a loud click. It was as sincere and prostrate an apology as he could give, for nearly breaking the _Resol'nare_ and making his brother _dar'manda_. The best he could offer was his own _Manda_.

Din shifted, stood, and Paz waited breathlessly as the other man moved towards him and knelt in front of him. With a careful hand, he slipped a hand under Paz's chin, lifted it, and with practised fingers re-clipped the chinstrap.

"Your anger is not worth your _Manda_ , _ner vod_ ," he said, the usual quiet, even tone that Paz was used to.

For a second, Paz had to breathe shallowly to avoid tears, the pain leaking away and leaving only the shame. "Your _Manda_ is worth mine - more than. I tried to take it."

The shorter man stood, lifting Paz to his feet, and caught the back of his helmet, bringing their foreheads together in a gentle _kov'nyn_.

"I know, Paz."

"Thank you," Paz breathed out, " _Vor entye_."

"There is no debt," Din replied, "And my _Manda_ is not in the best of shape, either." For the first time, there was heavy emotion there. Paz cocked his head in question, and Din disengaged from the embrace, walking over to his bed and sitting down, slumped. He seemed weary, conflicted somehow, and it came through in his voice as he said, "The bounty for that camtono of _beskar_ was a child. A fifty-year-old child, but a child nevertheless."

Paz took a sharp breath of horror. Children - Foundlings especially - were given great weight in the Way, practically sacred. If Din had handed over a child to the _Imperials_ -?

"I am rethinking it, trust me," said Din, bitter and determined. "The _Goran-Alor_ and Elders believe that because I was not told that they were a child - regardless of their years - it might not be stain on my _Manda_ , but I left them to the Imperial and his doctor and it sits badly with me."

Breathing out his dismay, Paz asked, "What are you going to do?"

"I haven't decided."

* * *

Jarey met Din Djarin the next day. He entered the forge with their _buir_ , discussing the use of the _beskar_ he had recovered. It seemed likely from the conversation that she would make him full armour to replace the scrappy durasteel he currently had. The _goran_ called Jarey over from where they were working on their helmet, " _Ad_! Come and meet Din."

Din had apparently not noticed all the details about Jarey - likely either their bare face or late-stage pregnancy - and started slightly as they came over, trying not to waddle and mostly succeeding. Those years of formal dance were useful for something, at least, Jarey thought sarcastically, as they gave a quick bow to greet the newcomer. He returned it cautiously, and Jarey said bluntly, "I'm Jarey. The _Goran-Alor_ adopted me after Paz saved me from the Imperials. I've heard a lot about you."

"Probably," he returned, and there was a slight confusion in his tone. "Is your _buir_ teaching you armouring?"

Jarey snorted, "I have to learn to _wear_ armour before I can _make_ it." The _goran_ laughed quietly at that, and Jarey turned to their _buir_ with a cheeky grin, "I should probably swear to the _Resol'nare_ before that, too."

Din made a shocked noise, but the _goran_ just shook her head as she brought up the holographic armour patterns. "First you must have your _Ca'nara be'Gaanade_ , Jarey. The time will come as the _Ka'ra_ decide and no sooner."

"Yes, _buir_ ," Jarey replied, smiling. Their _buir_ had said that several times, and they were starting to believe it. Nobody in the Covert was rushing them, except perhaps the children, who were eager for them to join the Tribe in being ' _really_ Mandalorian', as they insisted. There was a mostly-assembled helmet scattered across the _goran_ 's tertiary workstation, and Jarey was in the final, painstaking process of fastening in the wiring for the visor and external microphones and speakers. Another couple of hours of work, and they would have a fully-functional helmet and begin wearing it daily to accustom themself to the weight, the HUD, and the mic/vocoder array.

Din was looking between them, clearly not a hundred percent sure of what was going on. So he seized on what was clearly the easiest question: "Paz saved you from the Imperials?"

"Yes. I ran away from my husband - an Imperial - and by accident ended up right outside one of the Covert's concealed entrances," Jarey replied, watching him carefully for reactions, and could see their _buir_ in the corner of their eye doing the same. "The Imperials sent stormtroopers after me, so Paz killed them, and brought me into the Covert."

He was silent for a moment, head tilted as he absorbed the information, and then asked slowly, "Why were they chasing you?"

"I was the wife of the governor's son, Orsic Ollurno," they replied, baldly, and that got a reaction. He straightened, shocked, hands going unconsciously to weapons, but to his credit he didn't draw. "He was an abusive piece of _osik_ in every way. He got me pregnant but I couldn't stand for the child to be abused. So I ran. I'm not going back and I won't betray the Covert or the Tribe," Jarey added, letting their anger bleed into their voice, show their sincerity.

He relaxed slightly, hands leaving hilts, but there was still tension there. He seemed to absorb that, and then asked flatly, "Is he dead yet?"

Jarey grinned, letting it fill with all the fierce edge that they were learning. " _Buir'_ s teaching me to fight so I can go on the mission to do it myself. Jaa'lir is coming and Paz volunteered to lead."

"I'm in," he said, with fierce satisfaction, and reached out a hand. Jarey caught his forearm in a strong grip, and he leaned forward to carefully tap his forehead against theirs.

* * *

The next day, Jarey was kicked out of the forge near mid-day, completed helmet in hand. Their _buir_ had decreed that nobody was to be in the forge except herself and Din as she made his armour. Jarey didn't care at that moment, the weight of the _beskar_ in their hand was enough for them today. Quickly, they made a beeline for the room they were sharing with their _buir_ . Carefully, reverently, they placed the new helmet down on their pallet bed before walking as quickly as they could to the fresher to wash as thoroughly as possible. As they powered on the sonics, they noticed that their hands were shaking, trembling with excitement and effort and unexpected _pride_.

Once clean, they hurried back and pulled the small bundle that their _buir_ had given them as soon as they started work on the helmet. It was simple clothing, a palest-yellow tunic and pale blue trousers, and a beautifully woven, draped and hooded white cloak. The tunic and trousers weren't white because they didn't have anything that would fit a pregnant person, but the cloak was the proper colour, symbolising _Cin Vhetin_ , the white field.

It was that, more than anything, that Jarey _wanted_. More than _aliit_ , more than the certainty of the _Resol'nare_ and the Creed, more even than raising their child properly. It was that white field, the fresh start and clean slate that becoming Mandalorian truly meant. Their past would be erased and mean nothing. Only their actions as a _Mando'ad_ would matter. Only their _choices_.

Carefully wrapping their swollen breasts and the band to support their belly, Jarey began reciting the _Resol'nare_ as was expected. Undershorts and socks and then trousers and boots, then tunic and belt with the short vibroblade that _buir_ had insisted they carry. And then the cloak, carefully laying it so that their _buir'_ s _aliik_ was clear on one shoulder and the mythosaur _aliik_ of the _Mando'ade_ on the other.

Then it was time for the final step, the step to accept their _Ca'nara be'Gaanaade_ and begin truly committing to becoming one of the _Mando'ade_.

Carefully, they pulled their hair back, tying a cloth around their head and making sure it was lying flat, before picking up their helmet. It was suddenly a colossal weight in their hands, the enormity of the decision shaking their hands. Even now, they could choose to give up, to turn away, to return to Orsic and the easy, familiar, terrible life they had had before. They could choose to never be concerned about food and supplies and security as they had heard their _buir_ worrying about with the Elders. They could choose to go back to being useless, and worse, _knowing_ their own uselessness. They could choose to give up their vengeance against Orsic for his treatment. They could choose to put down the vibroblade that hung at their waist, lay down their helmet, walk out of the Covert and never come back.

But no.

If they did that, they would lose their friends - their _family_. Not only would they lose the strength and identity and knowledge they had gained, they would probably lose their life, because there was no way Orsic would tolerate what he would see as betrayal. They would be forced to betray the Covert.

And they would lose any chance for their child to be raised right. Unconsciously, they caressed their swollen belly, knowing that all the other reasons paled in comparison. For all that they _wanted_ the _Cin Vhetin_ , the child _needed_ it. It was the reason most worthy of the _Mando'ade_ , the _Resol'nare_ and the Way.

For reason of want or need, Jarey knew what the choice was.

Lifting the helmet, they settled it on their head, toggling the switch to bring up the HUD. They cycled through the modes, tested the external vocoder and the rear approach alert. Then they fastened the chinstrap and tilted their head one way and the other, shook their head, checking the fit and securing. It was all perfect, exactly as expected.

Taking a deep breath, Jarey stood and lifted the hood over their helmet, the symbol of trusting their Tribe to watch their back, and moved to the door.

Almost without realising, in a state of shaky almost-dream, Jarey found themself entering the _karyai_ and pausing in the doorway. Looking over at the knot of children in the corner, they realised that Paz was there, helping Iviin to teach knife sharpening. As they would any other day, they walked over, joining the back of the group.

The white cloak caught the warriors' eyes, and the children turned as Paz asked, "Jarey?"

Jarey nodded, and suddenly they were swamped in happily screeching children, and then Paz swept them up in a hug, and then Iviin, and then others were coming over and clapping their shoulders and back, hugging and congratulating them. Everything was joy and elation and Jarey had never felt so uncomplicatedly _happy_ and _light_ and _free_.

Jarey had made their choice to learn and become Mandalorian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify the chinstrap thing: helmets are customised to each person and vary in many aspects; having a chinstrap is one of those things - Paz and Jarey have one and Din doesn't.
> 
>  _Skira_ \- Settling scores, revenge, feud; more personal and intense than _gra'tua_ (vengeance).  
>  _Gra'tua_ \- Vengeance.  
>  _Hut'uun_ \- Coward. The worst possible insult to a Mandalorian.  
> Isk - Aurebesh/Galactic Basic equivalent of the letter 'i'.  
>  _Ni ceta_ \- Sorry, literally 'I kneel'. A rare and very sincere, grovelling apology.  
>  _Ner vod_ \- My brother/close friend (in this case).  
>  _Kov'nyn_ \- Head-butt. Also known as a Keldabe kiss or _mirshmure'cya_ (brain-kiss). Can be both equivalent of a kiss (familial or romantic) and a fighting move, because Mandalorians.  
>  _Cin Vhetin_ \- Fresh start, clean slate - lit. white field, virgin snow - term indicating the erasing of a person's past when they become Mandalorian, and that they will only be judged by what they do from that point onwards.  
>  _Aliik_ \- Clan symbol/signet/sigil.


	5. The Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late posting! I had it autoqueued and put in the wrong date...

Though Paz knew how long it took for a full suit of _beskar'gam_ to be made, he still itched with impatience. He and Din had talked long into the night and laid Paz's actions to rest. He still felt shaken up and unsteady from the intense emotions, which made his impatience worse. He ended up pacing around the _karyai_ until Iviin sat him down with a set of whetstones to teach the children how to sharpen knives.

He'd just got to checking the children's work when a flash of unusual movement caught his eye behind them, and he flicked a look up. His first thought was that he didn't recognise the helmet, and then the rest of his observations caught up - the pale clothes, the rounded belly and breasts, the _white cloak_.

"Jarey?" he stuttered out, because it couldn't be anyone else, and at the tentative nod, he was on his feet and stepping forward as they were swarmed by the children, who were shrieking in joy. He waded through them and caught Jarey up in a hug, heart swelling with happiness as they clung to him briefly, before turning in his arms to accept Iviin's hug. All his impatience had been shoved back by the sheer joy of a new clanmate, and their soon-to-be-born child, who would grow up properly _Mando'ade_ , with Paz and their ba'buir and the whole Tribe to help. He was proud of Jarey, how far they'd come from the uncertain, scared person that had run away from their then-husband for the sake of their baby. How they'd gone from a helpless refugee to someone who was contributing and was planning on raising their child Mandalorian.

As he watched, Jarey accepted the congratulations of those in the _karyai_ , and then others as they were drawn by the noise. The children were still milling around, and Jarey hugged them whenever they came close, and both Jarey and the children - especially the Foundlings - seemed to soak in the attention and positive touch. Iviin guided Jarey to sit down, clucking about the baby, and they laughed together. It was probably just him overthinking it, but he thought the laughter was a little warmer now that Jarey had taken up the _Ca'nara be'Gaanade_.

He knew that Jarey hadn't sworn the vows yet, but he also knew that it would be nothing but a formality. Jarey was the type to make that decision before committing, that the moment that they had put on the helmet they had chosen. They were going through with the _Ca'nara be'Gaanaade_ because they felt that they needed to know more, had to do it to be accepted. But in Paz's mind, Jarey was part of the Tribe now, part of the _aliit_ , his to protect and support.

For a moment, he thought back and realised that it wasn't just now. Jarey had been part of the Clan, his to protect, since that first night. He stared at Jarey's helmet, their new face, and contemplated. The white hood of the cloak emphasised the bare, unpainted _beskar_ , the colour choice and identity that they had yet to decide on. The three-ridged crest and shape was like their buir's, as were the diagonal cheeks with the triangular recesses. It was missing the horns and the nasal bar, and while the T-visor was the same rounded shape, it was thinner - a touch more protected. It was clear to see who their lineage was, but just as clearly, it was Jarey's and nobody else's. He couldn't wait to see the rest of their armour, and equally, he was eager to see it painted, even if he did have an overwhelming urge to fill the cheek recesses with his own light blue, perhaps add some gold.

Mentally, he took a step back. His colours, on Jarey's helmet, their face? And the assumption that he would be helping to raise their child, more than a clanmate would?

Well, Paz thought, Mando'ade loved fast and hard, as they did everything else. He was no different.

Jarey’s helmet

* * *

When Din entered the _karyai_ in his new armour, Jarey was at the largest table with the children, Elder Ruusaan taking them through a tactical scenario. The children - even the youngest Foundling, Jurir, who was around three - knew the terms and had a vague idea of the right actions. It wasn't the first time that Jarey had observed these lessons, but it was the first time they'd participated, and after their fifth question about terminology, the Elder had turned it into a lesson exercise where the children explained to Jarey and the Elder corrected them.

The children fell silent and stared at Din as he slid onto a free stool beside Jarey, eyes on his unpainted beskar'gam. Kirren, a Foundling boy of around eight, was the first to pluck up his courage and ask, "How heavy is the _beskar_?"

"A little heavier than durasteel," Din replied, calm and matter-of-fact, "Though it's stronger. The same thickness of _beskar_ is over twice as strong as durasteel, and tougher than any composite."

That got nods and grins from the children, and Pakla plucked up the courage to ask, "What colours are you going to paint it?"

"I haven't decided yet," was Din's reply.

Pakla frowned, before Kirren broke in with, "Red! You should pick red!" and the rest of the children took that as licence to suggest their own favourite colours and combinations. Jarey laughed at their enthusiasm.

"Hush! _Udesii_!" snapped Elder Ruusaan's voice, and the children quieted. "Well, _beroya_ , if you're going to disrupt my lesson," she said, her voice mildly rebuking but amused, "You'd best help teach these children - and Jarey - tactics."

Din laughed quietly, and gestured to the map and its small representations of some of the warriors of the Covert. 

"I was just waiting for Paz, but of course. So, Jarey. Explain the current situation." Jarey rolled their eyes - that was one huge advantage of a helmet, facial expressions didn't matter - and began explaining to the best of their ability. Din picked up the thread and began teasing out additional information. Kot'iru broke in to add some details about their supposed enemy, and then Kirren started arguing with him. With a couple of phrases, Din diverted their attention and brought in the attention of the smaller children.

By the time Paz came in from patrol duty, Din was deeply involved in explaining why sniper placement was so important in an ambush situation. Without interrupting his explanation or even greeting Paz, Din stood and pushed Paz into the seat by Jarey, and circled the table to lean over and point out better locations for Emnellen to place the little figure of Iviin, her _buir_ , to maximise his efficiency. Surprised, Jarey looked to Din, and then over to Paz.

Paz shook his head, catching the questioning tilt of Jarey's head, then tapped his helmet and a comm tone chirped in Jarey's ear. Jarey tapped the private channel open, and Paz's voice came through, warm and amused. "He's invested now, and he's always enjoyed - and been good at - teaching. He'll be a good father someday."

Jarey made an agreeing noise, then replied, "He will, it's only been fifteen minutes and I can see that. How long does it take to learn this? I feel so… slow, compared to even the smallest Foundlings. Jurir knows more about the terminology than I do." They couldn't help the slightly disconsolate tone from coming into their voice.

"It's okay, _Jar'ika_ ," Paz replied, and rested a comforting hand on their shoulder. "This sort of thing just takes time. I've no doubt that by the time your _ik'aad_ is ready to join these classes, you'll have a solid grounding. And besides, you never stop learning. If you stop learning, you die."

"Very Mandalorian," Jarey teased, and he laughed. The warm rumble wrapped around Jarey and they felt their shoulders relaxing. Paz was so comforting, for all that he was sometimes so intense. "Why was Din waiting for you, before he got dragged into this?"

Paz's visor turned towards them, and he shifted uncomfortably on the stool, his hand tightening on their shoulder. "I was going to talk with him about going with him on his next job," he said, and there was an almost-nervous tone to his voice.

For a long second, it felt like all the warmth, all the air, had been sucked out of the room, and all Jarey could think was, _but I'm only eight weeks out from my due date, he has to be here_! Feelings roiled, knowing that Paz had been cooped up for too long, remembering his grumbling two days ago about 'losing his edge', and 'sparring not being enough'. He was a warrior, and not fighting was driving him to distraction. His care and protectiveness had been his duty, and Jarey liked to think that he didn't resent them or their friendship. But the concept of Paz _not being here_ , the big warm shadow no longer at their shoulder in the _karyai_ , not having the laughing directions as their _buir_ taught them basic mechanics, the sure hands guiding them to strip a blaster or clean a knife - it was unexpectedly disappointing, saddening. Jarey felt weirdly alone, for the first time since they'd arrived at the Covert.

With a start, they realised that they'd been quiet for too long, and stuttered out, "Is… is it going to be long?"

Paz shook his head, and his voice was calm as he replied, "No. It depends on what bounties we take, but it shouldn't be more than three or four weeks." His voice hardened a little, and he added, "Jarey, I will be here for the birth of your child. I promised I'd be here to support you, and I meant it."

Suddenly, the room had warmth again, and Jarey could breathe properly. He'd never said it in as many words, but he'd implied it. That he'd said it meant that he'd given his word, and there was no way he'd ever break that. They could feel the dawning grin splitting their face, colouring their tone as they managed to get out, "Thank you - I… I'm glad you'll be here."

Something warm coloured Paz's voice as he replied, "I wouldn't miss the arrival of our newest Mando'ad," and Jarey hummed in happy acknowledgement.

* * *

"No." The tone was absolute finality, and Paz knew he'd lost.

Din was still arguing, " _Goran-Alor_ , if Paz comes with me, we can take heavier jobs and get them done sooner. It makes sense -"

The hammer hit the anvil with a ringing clang, and Din shut up abruptly. The _Goran-Alor_ 's voice was absolutely firm, and laced heavily with disappointment. 

"I said _no_ , Din Djarin, and I meant it. Need I remind you that Paz Vizsla is one of our best fighters and our _only_ heavy infantry. You have helped to plan the defence and evacuation of this Covert. You _know_ how critical his capabilities and armament are to the safety of our people!"

Din subsided, bowed his head, clearly understanding and hating it. 

" _N'eparavu takisit, Goran-Alor_. I apologise. It was foolish of me to ignore it."

"Din, it is not that I want Paz to remain here or for his skills to atrophy," the _Goran-Alor_ said, and her voice was wearied and sad, the tone that of one who had had to make too many hard decisions for too long. "It is that he is still more critical here. There are no good answers, and every one of us is important when we are so few."

"Yes, _Goran-Alor_ ," Paz said, and caught his _vod_ 's shoulder. "We understand." The _Goran-Alor_ turned back to the forge, and Paz tried to ignore the slight slump of her shoulders under her heavy fur and pauldrons as he pulled Din away.

Din went without a fight, but as soon as the forge's doors had closed behind them, he thumped one fist against the wall, the dull clang of his _beskar_ handguard loud in the quiet corridor. 

"I understand, but I don't like it, Paz," he said, turning to the bigger man, voice rough and posture flicking from anger to despair and back. "I hate that you're cooped up here while I have to go out there. I hate that we're just surviving. I hate that I never have backup or guidance!" He thumped the wall again, and his voice was rough as he added, "Maybe I wouldn't have taken a bounty on a child if I'd just had someone to talk it out with!"

Paz slung an arm around his shoulders, drawing him in close. 

"Vod, that's the reality of our life. I hate that answer as much as you do," he said, weighing his words. Din was so deeply tied to the Tribe, hated being alone. "But we have sworn to the Resol'nare, both the hard and the easy. And sometimes, _ara'nov_ means staying behind to defend and protect our people, and sometimes it means going out and collecting bounties so we can feed them."

"I know, Paz," replied Din, leaning over to rest his forehead on Paz's pauldron, "I know. But sometimes…" he trailed off. "I'm sorry. I'm all mixed up. I still haven't decided what to do about the last bounty. The child. It's messing me up."

Leaning down to tap his forehead against the crown of Din's helmet, Paz sighed, quiet enough that his vocoder wouldn't pick it up. Aside from his own idiocy, the whole business left him uneasy, from the original description of the bounty to the _beskar_ that Din now wore a good half of. Especially since Din was still so conflicted about it. Din was a good man, and he clung tight to the Way with a fervency that few did, or could sustain. Paz himself was less strict than Din and the _Goran-Alor_ , but he couldn't fault them for their sincerity. He'd grown up on Mandalore and remembered a time when _Mando'ade_ freely walked the streets of Keldabe and Sundari, faces bare to the sun. Hiding as they now did, going out in ones and twos, stirred that deep pit of anger and pain in his chest, ripped at wounds that would never truly heal, but Din had never really known anything else, certainly not as an adult. The Way was his guiding light and to have broken it - or at least bent it very severely - was doing bad things to his state of mind, and Paz needed to help him. "Vod," he said, "Know that whatever choice you make, it will be the right one. And know that I will not only support you, I'll give you backup."

Din gave a watery laugh, "I know, Paz. You're always there for me. I just thought that maybe, for once, we could do it together. It's been… years since we hunted together, and I miss it."

"Me too," Paz replied quietly, letting his regret colour his voice as he gathered the smaller man into a proper embrace, their breastplates clunking together in a sound that Paz immediately equated with family and comfort and support. Din shifted and then dropped his head back onto Paz's pauldron, clinging in a way that he very seldom did. They stood together for a little while, warmed _beskar_ plates shifting between them as they breathed, and Paz pretended not to hear the shuddering breaths that slipped from beneath Din's helmet seals.

* * *

Jarey's afternoon had been quite sedate. With less than eight weeks to go to their due date, they felt huge and awkward. The cool of the Covert's unheated rooms meant they weren't too uncomfortable unless they were going through their pre-natal exercises (Jaa'lir became more of a tyrant as they learned more), or in the always-hot forge. A bag of mending and a jug of cold water had occupied them, and they were just folding away the last piece when Emnellen burst into the _karyai_ , and bellowed, speakers at full volume, "Yulla said to tell everyone that Din's facing down the _entire Bounty Hunter Guild_ in the _street_!"

Simultaneously, the public comm channel lit up, and Tracyn's rough, steady voice came through. " _Alor_ , Din's in the main street, the Guild are threatening him. He has a child. Yulla and I have clear shots. Permission to engage."

"Granted," comes their buir's voice, and Jarey has never heard that deadly edge before. It grabbed something in their gut, something that has been building since they came to the Covert, excitement and adrenaline at the prospect of battle, something they never could have imagined before. " _Mando'ade_ , one of our own, and a child he has rescued, are being threatened. Warriors, arm yourselves and go to your brother's aid. Elders, _verd'ike_ , evacuation pattern. _Oya Manda_!"

" _OYA_!" comes the roar of response from every throat - and even Jarey finds themself responding, moving to get up and head for their evacuation station. The decisive choice from their _buir_ had calmed something deep down, because knowing what to do, and being trusted to do it, put them truly in control of themself. They gathered up their mending bag and hurried as fast as they could towards the room their shared with their _buir_.

In the main corridor, the last of the warriors rushed past them, towards the main exit shaft. Jarey saw a flash of blue, and then the massive figure of Paz, fully armed and armoured, paused and turned back.

"Jarey -" he began, and Jarey shook their head as two warriors lit their jetpacks and shot up the shaft into the evening sky.

"Go and help Din," they said, and the heavy blue _beskar_ and the knowledge of Paz's battle prowess gave them the confidence to add, "I'll see you on the other side."

Paz nodded, and then in three long strides he was in front of them, leaning down to tap the brow ridges of their helmets together, an incongruously delicate gesture - and Jarey almost gasped, because they knew the intimacy of the action. "Look after yourself. And the little one. _Ret'urcye mhi_." His heavy, armoured glove dropped and rested for a moment on the swell of their belly.

" _K'oyacyi_ ," Jarey replied, heart swelling with pride and adrenaline. Paz tapped their helmets together again, and then swung away, breaking into a run, jetpack lighting and firing as he leapt into the shaft, and he was gone.

Jarey took a long, deep breath, and headed for their _buir_ 's room, ready to pack away their life and leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this ended kind of abruptly, but this is the best place to leave it for now. Does this count as a cliffhanger? Pretty sure it doesn't.
> 
>  _Beskar'gam_ \- Armour, literally 'iron skin'.  
>  _Ba'buir_ \- Grandparent.  
>  _Beroya_ \- Bounty hunter.  
>  _Jar'ika_ \- Affectionate nickname for Jarey that would be used by friends and family. This style of nickname is the first syllable or two and 'ika, the diminutive suffix. Shorter names, such as Paz or Din, can just have the suffix tacked on, _Paz'ika_ or _Din'ika_ , or just use the first letter with the suffix, _P'ika_ or _D'ika_. It's often dependent on what sounds best for the purpose.  
>  _N'eparavu takisit_ \- Sorry, literally 'I eat my insult'.  
>  _Verd'ike_ \- 'Little warriors', a diminutive generally used for a child/teen. Verd'ika is the singular form.  
>  _Oya!/Oya Manda!_ \- Literally 'let's hunt!' or 'stay alive!', but generally used as a battle cry and encouragement, 'hoorah', 'go us/you', always positive and triumphant. Oya Manda! is more-or-less 'Yay Mandalorians!', an expression of Mandalorian spirit, solidarity, and perpetuity.  
>  _Ret'urcye mhi_ \- Goodbye, literally 'maybe we'll meet again'.  
>  _K'oyacyi_ \- Literally 'stay alive', can be used as a goodbye, to mean 'come back safely', but also used as encouragement, 'hang in there', 'go you', or 'keep it up'.


	6. The Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translated one work to _Mando'a_ and added an extra line to the canon dialogue, don't think it disrupts the flow too much.

Paz Vizsla was no stranger to battle. Over his thirty-one years of life, he'd been in several major battles, for Mandalore, for Death Watch, to protect his Clan, for the Rebel Alliance, to protect the Tribe and the pitiful remnants of his once-mighty, still-proud people. He'd lived through them all, but somehow it seemed more critical than ever that he lived through this one. His blood was running hot with adrenaline, but he fought it with the cold calculation of tactical awareness. He _wanted_ to sink into the fight, let his instincts and muscle-memory take over like it had when he killed Jarey's pursuers in the sewers, but this was a full skirmish with competent opponents, not the ambush he'd carried out there.

Battle was already joined, and he aimed straight into the middle of it, knowing that that would be where Din was. He unslung his cannon and cycled it up, ready. Spotting his _vod_ in the smoke and bright blaster bursts of the firefight was hard, but the unpainted _beskar_ of Din's new armour gleamed in the low light, and his protective posture over the unseen child in his arms was clear.

Paz let loose with the first burst as he descended, assessing the formation of the warriors and the bounty hunters. The _Mando'ade_ were well-spread, in the formation they often discussed but never practised; Mandalorian tactical prowess and the instinctive knowledge of battlefield advantages meant it was as smooth as if drilled for months. Yulla and Tracyn ran high, with Senaar and Reku moving to flank and create a killbox below them in the street. The other warriors, more heavily-armoured, dropped down to create a line-of-battle around Din, Paz to his immediate right, unleashing the Seven Sith Hells on the bounty hunters.

The comm chatter was level and efficient, position changes and kill calls updating the trained mental counters in Paz's mind.

For all that the bounty hunters were competent and smart, quick with their blasters, they were hunters, not warriors. Ambushing and taking down a single, vastly outnumbered, distracted _Mando'ad_ who was holding a child was a distinctly different proposition to having the full complement of a Covert of Mandalorian warriors come down on them in full skirmish formation, with the weight of all their weapons.

Din was looking around at the descending warriors - he was still firing, blind - and Paz caught the first glimpse of the child cradled in Din's arm, small with green skin and big ears. Din's posture betrayed shock, disbelief, and for a second the adrenaline and calculation were parted by a spear of hurt. Paz had told Din that he would back him up, but Din either hadn't believed him, or hadn't believed it would go to this extent.

He toggled up his external speakers as he sent another burst of fire downrange. "This is the Way," he shouted over to Din, and in that second, he saw Din straighten.

"This is the Way," Din responded, and the faith in his aliit was back in his voice. The message of support had been clear, and he knew what it meant. The entire Covert had turned out. This was exposing them, forcing their evacuation, but it was worth it for the safety of every member of the Tribe.

"Go! _K'oyacyi_!" Paz yelled, and without argument Din turned and ran, out the gate and towards the spaceport.

The hunters were falling, but so too had Mando'ade. Lucky shots and volume of fire were never going to leave them all unharmed - but they were giving better than they got, and Paz let the adrenaline flow as he laid down covering fire and took out unwary or too-bold bounty hunters. They were winning - slow but sure - the might of Mandalore proving greater than a few hunters.

As the _Razor Crest_ lifted up and away, Tracyn's voice cut across the comms, "Paz, get on his wing until he hits the cloud layer. He needs to get clear," and before the old sergeant had finished speaking, Paz had lit his jetpack and was lifting off, the shuddering roar of the phoenix behind and below him. He left his cannon unslung, sweeping low and strafing the few solid positions that the bounty hunters had. As he did, Iviin and Atin followed him up, taking advantage of his movement and the hail of fire he put out to drop in behind the bounty hunters and enclose the killbox.

Paz grinned ferally behind his faceplate, knowing that by the time he was back, the engagement would be over, and the _Mando'ade_ would have won the day. Slinging the cannon back to latch in rest position, Paz burnt his thrusters hard and sped after the _Razor Crest_. There was no pursuit, and he caught up to the Crest quickly, setting himself into flanking/guard position. He looked over to the cockpit, and saw Din watching as they shot through the clouds and into the last of the sun.

"K'oyacyi," he said, not bothering to open a channel, and lifted his hand to his brow in salute. Din would know, and his vod would come back to the Tribe as soon as he could. He peeled away, heading back down to mop up the last of the bounty hunters.

* * *

In the Covert's tunnels, everyone was deep in the evacuation protocols. Two speeders had been pulled out of a tunnel, and Jaa'lir had disassembled the few scanners and analysers from the infirmary into the back of one with hasty efficiency and sped away towards their ship. The children were busy carrying bags and the odd chest from bedrooms, forming a set of orderly piles. The other speeder was loaded and within minutes was away, just in time for Jaa'lir to get back and the process to repeat. The Elders had stripped down the _karyai_ and the kitchen and had gone to the main entrances to guide in the wounded and act as last line of defence.

Jarey was shaky with a mix of worry and excitement. Their _buir_ 's room and their belongings had somehow packed down into nothing more than a pair of duffels and the two bedrolls which were shrunk into packages smaller than Jarey's sad little escape bag, which they slung on their back. They dropped the duffels in a pile by the forge door, and went in. Their _buir_ stood by the armoury cupboard, taking down and laying out blasters and vibroknives. 

" _Buir_? What do you need me to do?" they asked, and a pile of holstered blasters was shoved into their hands, followed by a stack of sheathed knives.

"Hand these out to the _verd'ike_ ," she says, "They must be able to defend themselves as we go." Her voice was perfectly level and utterly cold, the warm woman that had comforted Jarey with bare hands gone, replaced by the _Goran-Alor_ of the Nevarro Tribe. It was strange and uncomfortable, but Jarey just nodded and went, knowing that their _buir_ had more things to worry about than Jarey's discomfort.

The task was quickly accomplished, the children serious as they strapped and clipped holsters and sheaths to their belts and what small armour plates they had. It twisted something in Jarey's gut, that children so young were so ready for battle. Even tiny Jurir, all of three years old, had a holdout blaster and a short knife which she checked over with competence before going to continue helping, her small face set in lines that made it look far too old. But then, Jarey thought, these children were protected by that knowledge. For all that they knew how to hurt and kill, they were loved and valued, would never be alone, would never face the abuse and pain that Jarey had endured. Jarey found that they could accept that tradeoff.

As the first wounded warrior dropped down the exit shaft, jetpack flaring out as he collapsed on his side, the children broke away from loading the last of the baggage and supported him into the _karyai_ where Jaa'lir had set up their last-minute field kit. Armour came off and the _baar'ur_ worked with quick efficiency. 

"Jarey! Disinfect your hands and hold this!" was barked out, and Jarey automatically grabbed the disinfection spray and their hands were shoved onto a gauze pad that was quickly reddening with blood as Jaa'lir frantically applied bacta and sealant sprays, and then the pad was pulled away and more sealant was applied and Jarey had to get more bacta.

Time slid away into a morass of moments, and Jarey let it, dropping their uncertainty and discomfort and even the still-running adrenaline to do only what Jaa'lir said, just another pair of hands.

Until Jaa'lir looked over the next warrior, ripping off holed and dented armour, and revealed a massive black burn on his side, his green skin pierced by shrapnel and scooped out like some animal had taken a huge bite out of him. 

"What is it?" he rasped out, then descended into a coughing fit. Sickly, dark blood began to seep from under his helmet, the seals too ripped to contain it.

"Oh, _vod'ika_ ," said Jaa'lir, and their voice was gentle. "I can't treat this, Marev. Not even with a medbed. A full bacta tank probably wouldn't do it."

"I'm done for?" he asked, matter-of-fact, and Jarey felt their jaw drop at the simple acceptance of reality. Jaa'lir nodded, solemn in a way that Jarey had never seen before, and the warrior returned it. 

"Okay," he said, then turned his head to Jarey. " _Vod'ika_ , I need you to help me up so I can go and relieve one of the Elders as the last line of defence."

Dumbstruck, all adrenaline suddenly dumped into icy horror, Jarey mechanically reached out and helped him to sit up. This man was _dying_ , going to die. And he was leaning forward to grab his rifle, leaning heavily on Jarey's shoulder and then urging them up. He was choosing to die fighting, to protect the Tribe with the last of his ebbing life.

And Jarey suddenly understood what _ara'nov_ meant, down at its core. It meant protecting your Clan and family to the last breath. It meant giving every last drop of blood. The horror in their gut coiled into resolve and fierce determination, a little of Marev's courage coming to them. They caught Marev by his shredded belt as he wrapped his arm around their shoulders, and together they lurched towards the entrance.

As they went, other warriors passed them, wounded or whole, carrying the wounded and dead, and Jarey realised belatedly that the battle was over. As each passed and understood Marev's condition, each stopped, and brief words of farewell and encouragement were said.

" _Ni partayli, gar darasuum_ ," Reku said as she hugged Marev, voice thick with tears, and Jarey knew that Reku would be adding Marev's name to her Remembrance. A quiet certainty stirred in their chest, and they knew that they were going to have to say the Remembrance before they went to sleep, whenever that was, that Marev was going to be the first on their list, for his sacrifice for the Tribe, and for teaching them the meaning of _ara'nov_.

Elder Skirata was kneeling by the main entrance, carbine out and moving in a steady tracking motion, covering all angles. As Marev and Jarey came closer, not even trying to be quiet, the man's head lifted and he turned it slightly so they entered his peripheral. Marev gestured to where the Elder was knelt, and Jarey helped him to sit down, propped up against the wall.

"Not going to make it?" the Elder asked, a hint of sympathy tinging his usually-brusque tone. Jarey had never heard anything even resembling warmth from the harsh old man before, and it cut through the still-fresh resolve. If Skirata could show that warmth… it started to sink in, the true meaning of Marev's situation and choice, and sadness rose, unexpected.

Marev shook his head, readying his rifle and propping it across his knees. 

"Jaa'lir said even a bacta tank wouldn't do it. So I'll relieve you. Strip my armour and take it back to the _Goran-Alor_." The Elder nodded, and began quickly and efficiently stripping off the armour. Jarey began to help, clumsily starting with his pauldrons, feeling that it was the least they could do, witnessing this man's last fight. Marev caught their hands before they could get far, and he coughed out, "Ah, _vod'ika_ , start with the greaves. I've changed my mind. You should have it, you have no armour. I've no _ad'ike_ and all my family are gone. It'd be nice for someone in the Tribe to wear my armour after me."

Jarey's head shot up, and they knew they were gaping under their faceplate. Giving and receiving armour was deeply personal, they knew that much, but the welling sadness in his tone couldn't be denied, and they found themself nodding and moving to his legs. The greaves and attached knee-plates were easy to get off, and they soon rested beside the rest of his damaged blue plates, the black and orange stripes stained with blood and fluids. Gathering their courage, they asked, "What's your full name? I will say it in Remembrance."

Marev let out a rough laugh, and then a coughing fit took him. 

"Marev Orilin of Clan Morut," he finally ground out. "I'm honoured, _vod'ika_."

Jarey nodded, and suddenly this man they barely knew felt far more of a brother to them than their biological brothers ever were, and the sadness swelled into a cold ball that blocked their throat, and they had to blink away tears. "I will wear your armour to honour you," they said, choked, and leaned forward to tap their forehead against his.

As Jarey leaned back, Elder Skirata clapped Marev on the shoulder, saying, " _Urcye mhi Manda, vod_ ," and leaning forward to tap his forehead against the other man's. 

"This is the Way."

"This is the Way," Marev repeated. " _Jate'kara_."

Elder Skirata helped Jarey up and passed the pile of plates into their arms, and they turned away.

* * *

By the time Jarey and their gifted plates were back to the _karyai_ , half of the Tribe was already gone to their hidden ships. Jaa'lir was still working, and the _Goran-Alor_ was standing by the forge, having a last-minute discussion with Elder Ruusaan and Tracyn; Elder Skirata joined them. Jarey waited, shifting impatiently, until the three left, gathering some of the children and leaving quickly.

Their _buir_ looked over, noted the plates in Jarey's arms, and carried on regardless. 

" _Ad_ , you're with Jaa'lir, Paz, and the other half of the children. I'll see you when the _aliit_ gathers again."

Jarey's hands clenched around their beskar, the courage that Marev had given them slipping. 

" _Buir_ \- I'm not going with you?"

"No, Jarey," came the quick reply, and then her voice softened and she stepped forward, placing her hands on Jarey's shoulders. " _Ad_ , I'm staying here. I need to reforge the _beskar_ of our fallen." She lifted the plates out of Jarey's arms, placing them down on the forge and quickly shuffling through them, sorting them into two piles, those apparently deemed too damaged and those that were acceptable. "I will probably not see the birth of my _bu'ad_ ," she said, matter-of-fact, and pulled a small cloth-wrapped object out of a pouch. "Please give this to them when they are born."

Jarey took it and unwrapped it. It was a small _aliik_ , the Mythosaur, gleaming dully with the sheen of beskar, a chain wrapped around it. Carefully, their hands shaking, Jarey wrapped it back up and put it in a pouch of their own. "Thank you, _buir_ ," they managed to choke out around the mass of emotion in their throat - mourning for Marev and the fall of the Covert, fear of the unknown to come - fear that they would lose the beloved _buir_ that they had only just gained.

The acceptable plates were shoved into a mesh bag and put back in Jarey's hands, and then their _buir_ leaned forward over the armour, hands back on Jarey's shoulders as she tilted her head and tapped their foreheads together. 

"Now go, Jarey. Care for this newest of our _allit_ ," - her gauntlet brushed briefly over Jarey's swollen belly - "And care for the Foundlings. They are the Future. This is the Way."

Jarey nodded, and swallowed, gathering all the emotions together and shoving them down as far as possible. 

"This is the Way," they returned, only slightly wobbly, and straightened their back, clutching the armour to their chest. They nodded and turned away, blinking away the tears, and walked towards where the rest of the children waited.

* * *

Paz rushed back towards the _karyai_ , looking for the children. His assigned evacuation task - other than defence - was the children and the _baar'ur_. If they hadn't already gone, he was to take them to Jaa'lir's ship and get them offworld as fast as possible. He nearly ran into Briika at the door, who directed him towards the forge.

Half the children and the Elders were already gone, the rest of the warriors creating a loose perimeter to hold until the last of the children were safely offworld. Jaa'lir was packing their field kit and swinging the hard case up onto their back, and as he came into range, they snapped out, "About time you got here," before kneeling down to Yulla and administering one last hypo to her neck. The warrior relaxed back with a sigh, and Paz fought down a surge of rage at the truncated, destroyed mess that was her lower torso and legs. Even _beskar_ couldn't protect against grenades. Two still, armoured bodies were neatly laid out beside her, and Paz gritted his teeth against the sorrow at the sight of his fallen _vode_.

" _Ad'ike_ ," he called out, and little huddle of children by the forge door moved towards him as a mass. He looked them over, counting. For girls, they had both the oldest, ten-year-old Emnellen, and the youngest, three-year-old Jurir, along with five-year-old Pakla. The boys were eight-year-old Kirren, and a mischievous pair of four-year-olds, Isett and Vashka, who were brothers in all but blood.

Jurir immediately latched tiny fingers into his cuisse, " _Ori'vod_ , we're going with Jaa'lir, right?"

"Yes," Paz replied, and swung her up onto his left hip, carefully making sure little fingers couldn't reach the still-hot barrels of his cannon. "And Jarey, wherever they are."

"Here," came a shaky voice from the forge door, and Paz looked over to see Jarey clumsily leaning down to pick up a duffel, and then looked down at the bedroll package, fumbling a mesh bag in the other hand. Pakla scooted over and picked up the bedroll, looking up at Jarey for approval. They nodded, and then said, "Okay, let's go."

There was something in Jarey's voice, in the particular shake of it, but Paz didn't have time to unpack it or deal with whatever fallout there was going to be. He set the marching order quickly. 

"Jarey, follow Jaa'lir. Pakla, with Jarey. Others pair up: Isett and Vashka, Kirren and Emnellen. I'm at the rear with Jurir." There was a quick chorus of acknowledgement, and they were quickly underway, moving through the tunnels and out to a secluded, dubiously-legal landing field. Jaa'lir's ship, the _Balac_ , was sitting there, a battered YT-1760 Corellian light freighter, engines already humming. As they hustled up the already-closing ramp, Jaa'lir directed, "Dump everything, it'll be okay. Adults, with me to the cockpit. Emnellen, Kirren, on the guns. Rest of you, strap into the galley seats."

Soon, they were rocketing up through the cloud layer, Paz comming the Covert to say they were clear, and Jaa'lir inputting the coordinates for their first hyperspace jump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Ni partayli, gar darasuum."_ \- 'I remember you, so you are eternal'. The second half of the Litany/Remembrance for those who have passed on, _Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum_ (I'm still alive but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.), followed by the names of loved ones.  
>  _"Urcye mhi Manda."_ \- A made-up phrase, 'We'll meet again in the Manda', derived from _ret'urcye mhi_ , 'Maybe we'll meet again', and _Manda_ , the collective Mandalorian soul and afterlife.  
>  _Jate'kara_ \- Good luck or destiny, literally 'good stars'.  
>  _Bu'ad_ \- Grandchild.  
>  _Ori'vod_ \- _Ori_ (big/best) and _vod_ (sibling/brother/sister), here 'big brother'. Also used to mean 'best friend'.  
>  _Balac_ \- Opportunity.


	7. The Contact

As soon as they were in hyperspace, Jaa'lir gathered everyone in the galley. The children were piled on top of each other on the galley couch, and Jarey lowered themself to sit, propped up against the conservator. 

"Okay," Jaa'lir began, leaning back against the cooker, "To start, standard evacuation protocol is that we all lie low for at least a month, then head for the current secondary site."

"We should follow the protocol," Paz agreed with the medic, lowering himself to one knee beside Jarey. "Current secondary is near Vergesso Shadowport. Ideally, we'd need to be at the Rim end of the Corellian Run. I'd much rather the Ryoone site as the secondary, but wishes don't win wars." He sounded sour and tired to Jarey's ear, the grief clear.

 _"Ori'vod_ , are we going to Vergesso? _"_ Jurir climbed down out of the pile of children and toddled over to him, climbing onto his knee and cuddling into him. "How long does that take? I want to go to sleep."

"Well," Paz said, and his voice was clearly forced calmer, gentler. "We'll go to Vergesso eventually, in a month, to meet the rest of the Tribe. We need to lay low for now, keep ourselves quiet and secret and safe until then."

"Okay," Jurir said, resting her head on his breastplate and yawning.

Jaa'lir laughed quietly at the child's obvious exhaustion, "The bunks in the passenger cabin are ready, Paz. Kirren and Emnellen can stay up, but the rest of you should go at least have a nap."

"I'm awake," came a mumble from Pakla, and then she yawned hugely and blinked.

That prompted a laugh from the adults, and the next little while was spent helping four tired and grumpy children wash, put on fresh tunics and underwear, and tucking them into the beds. Isett and Vashka refused to be parted, and nobody even tried after the first refusal, letting them tangle up together in the far corner of an upper bunk. Jarey's heart, battered from the events of the day, swelled and settled at the sight of the children relaxing into a peaceful rest.

"First things first: we need a safe base, at least for the first week or so." Jaa'lir observed when they were back in the galley, the three adults and two older children grouped on the couch and table. "This is going to be rough enough on the littlest ones, they need a little time to adjust. We're not spacers. We could skip around after that, it would be better for safety. But I don't have a lot of fuel or water on board, so we need to be careful with it."

"I have a contact that might be able to help us with that base," Paz said, and Jarey breathed out a sigh of relief. Giving birth while in space was a daunting prospect, even though they trusted Jaa'lir's (limited) expertise. Then they realised that his tone was unusually tentative, and something worried prodded at the back of their thoughts.

"What's the problem with it, _ori'vod_?" Kirren asked bluntly, and Jarey almost laughed, a little hysterical with exhaustion and adrenaline crash. They still weren't used to the absolute forthrightness of the _Mando'ade_.

Paz fidgeted for a second with his vambrace, and then said, "Well. They're a _contact_ , but not… not exactly a _friend_ . He'd help, though. For the children." The worry intensified a little, and Jarey found themself wondering how many disreputable people Paz knew - because whoever this person was, he was _definitely_ disreputable. How many their _buir_ knew.

"He won't betray us to the Imperials, or bounty hunters?" asked Jaa'lir, blunt, and when Paz nodded, they said, "When we drop out of hyperspace for the next calculation set, contact him."

* * *

To say Paz was reluctant to try reaching his contact was an understatement. He was sure that as soon as the children were mentioned, they would be absolutely safe, but it was still nerve-wracking to be contacting a man who was arguably the most notorious bounty hunter in the galaxy. Not to mention that he was still lying low and pretending to be either dead or retired.

Paz leaned against the cockpit wall, too large with his cannon to settle in the chairs. Staring out at the band of the galaxy arcing across the viewport, he sent a ping to the commcode he'd been given, watching passing ships as they hovered on the edge of a hyperspace route intersection. He'd bounced it off a few junctions and re-routes, but he wasn't a great slicer, and he was certain that by the time Fett contacted him back, he would not only be able to reach Paz, but would probably know exactly where he was.

As he waited, the cockpit door slid open, and Jarey entered with a bowl of broth, a food-tube, and two slices of _haashun_ . Paz took them, and immediately dropped the _haashun_ in the broth. Jarey made a confused noise, and he explained, _"Haashun_ is a ration-pack staple, it's dried bread. You have to reconstitute it in liquid, and if you put it in broth it tastes of it. Better than plain. _"_

"Oh," Jarey said, awkwardly sitting down in the co-pilot's chair and groaning in relief at being off their feet. "Jaa'lir gave me, Kirren, and Emnellen normal bread. If it's from a ration-pack, do we not have much food?" Their tone was concerned, and their hands were lifting to flutter around their belly, clearly worried.

Paz chuckled, "No. Jaa'lir, crazy person that they are, _likes_ _haashun_ , so they always have tons. They'll be saving the proper stuff for you and the kids, and giving me this because they know I'll eat whatever I'm given." He hoped he was being reassuring, given that Jarey needed to minimise their stress in the next few weeks. He stripped off his gloves and poked the _haashun_ , determining it was soft enough. He popped his helmet seals out of the way, rolled up the soggy bread into a tube, and shoved it in. It was better than plain _haashun_ , but the broth wasn't great either. Jaa'lir _could_ cook, but only simple things, and not very well. Still, it was food.

Jarey was clearly watching the whole process intensely, judging from the tilt of their helmet. 

"How do you make sure you don't get the broth all over your face?"

Paz slurped down the last of the bread, and replied wryly, "Practice. You get really good, really fast, when you have the motivation of everything smelling like bad soup if you miss." That provoked a laugh from Jarey, and Paz felt his chest warm at the sound. Jarey hadn't laughed at all when they had first come to the Covert, but it had become more common. He'd smiled every time he heard the musical sound. Then his comm beeped, and he handed the bowl of broth back to Jarey. "Hold this."

The image that popped up when he toggled the comm was clearly the infamous _beroya_. 

"Vizsla,” he said, after a moment. “Do you have a job?"

Paz nodded respectfully and replied, "Fett. No, no job. Just a question."

"Ask," came the curt reply, but the other man was clearly intrigued by the loosening of his shoulders and the tilt of his helmet.

"The Nevarro Covert has had to evacuate," Paz replied, and Fett stiffened right back up. He carried on, laying it out quick and clear as he knew the man preferred. "I've got our _baar'ur_ , six kids ten or under, and a pregnant person. I'm looking for a hideout for a couple of weeks. We'll need to move to another site for security but need something to start with."

Fett looked off to one side, and reached out to tap at a datapad out of pickup range. 

"I have access to somewhere," he said after a moment. "Okay for the first couple of weeks, you might be able to stay longer depending on others. We can discuss it when you get there. You'll need to bring supplies, it's very basic."

Paz nodded, and tried not to be too obvious about his sigh of relief. "Anything specific?"

"Repair materials would be good. I'll send you a list with the coordinates," was the reply.

 _"Vor entye_ ," Paz said, bowing slightly. This wasn't the expected outcome of the call, but Fett took great (and vicious) delight in surprising _everyone_ , and Paz had helped him out at a difficult time.

"It's no debt, Vizsla," was the terse response. "Fett, out." The comm blinked out, and after a few moments, chirped again. Paz activated it briefly, looked at the coordinates, and sighed. He didn't know the exact planet, but he knew the coordinates were somewhere in the Abrion Sector. There were few safer places in the galaxy for a bunch of Mandalorian kids than a backwater agriworld. He looked over to Jarey, and the stiffness of their posture and unwavering visor made it very clear that they were staring at Paz.

"Was that who I thought?" they asked, quiet and a little disbelieving. Paz could understand - he'd definitely not believed it when he'd met Fett for the first time. "And he's going to help us?"

"Yes, and it's a good thing. If he says it's safe, it's _safe_."

Jarey nodded slowly, and then handed back the bowl of broth. "Well. I guess so. Finish this, and then you get to tell Jaa'lir."

Under the visor, Paz winced. That would definitely be _interesting_. Time to get more information.

* * *

"You contacted _who_? And told him? And he _agreed to help?_ " Jaa'lir sounded _angry_ , disbelieving and slightly stunned, slumping into the pilot's chair. Jarey still couldn't quite believe it themself - even with as sheltered an upbringing as they'd had, they'd heard of Boba Fett. Jaa'lir had rejoined them in the cockpit a few minutes after Fett's call, reporting that the two older kids were back in the turrets, and telling them about the call had turned out as expected.

"I helped him out, once," Paz replied, and then when Jaa'lir gestures for more information, elaborates, sounding mildly annoyed. "He still owes me this much, and he keeps his word. The man has a _code_ \- doesn't take contract on kids, kills clean, no bystander casualties. I know for a fact he's backed out of contracts if they've lied to him. And he follows the _Resol'nare_ as far as I know; his father was _Mand'alor_ , for stars' sake!"

" _What?_ " both enbys' visors turned to nail Paz with their stares.

Jarey stammered out, disbelieving, "Like… _Mand'alor_. The sole ruler of Mandalore, the Head of the Clans, leader of the _Mando'ade_? Jango Fett, who was a bounty hunter, who was the template for the clone army?"

Paz looked from one to the other, and repeated slowly, "Jango Fett was _Mand'alor_ after Jaster Mereel, however much my Clan hated it. Jaa'lir, you didn't know that?"

"Well, obviously not!" Jaa'lir snapped, and then rested their forehead in their hand, as though unutterably tired, and Jarey sympathised, because that was a hell of a revelation, even given how little they knew about the history of Mandalore. "If you say he's honourable, I'll believe you. But if he endangers the children…"

Paz shook his head, and reached out to rest a hand on Jaa'lir's shoulder. 

"If I thought that he would, I'd never have contacted him." Jaa'lir shoved his hand off, standing, and there was an awkward silence, where Jaa'lir looked up at Paz, absolutely steady, and Jarey knew enough to pick up how truly _furious_ they were - both outwardly at Paz for not telling them who he planned on contacting, and inwardly at their own self for not asking enough questions. The _baar'ur'_ s body was tense, strung tight with incipient violence, and Jarey reached out, catching the other enby's hand, drawing them away from Paz.

"So where are we going, Paz?" they asked, trying to break the tension.

The big warrior grabbed at the chance with both hands. "Kibaroon. It's a backwater agriworld, between Molavar and Roon. Nothing but a few farmers. Temperate world that's around 50% water. Fett's coordinates are for a spot in the southern hemisphere, on a fairly secluded volcanic island chain."

Jaa'lir stepped back, shoulders relaxing a little, and they clenched their hands tight once before they asked, "Near any settlements?" Paz wordlessly shook his head, and the _baar'ur_ shook their head, sitting back in the pilot's chair with a carefully-contained movement. "Nothing to be done. We'll go there, and hope you're right, and be ready in case not." They turned to the nav computer, clearly readying to input coordinates.

As Jarey leaned over to watch, their abdomen muscles cramped up and surged, and they moved back into their seat, riding out the contraction. They had been happening over the last few weeks, but this was stronger than any they'd experienced before. Another came, and they focussed on breathing. Jaa'lir's voice was in their ear, encouraging, counting through the breaths. They opened their eyes, seeing Paz crouched at their feet, and reached out. He caught their hands in his still-bare ones, and _held_ , warm and strong, as the contraction released and another, smaller one rolled through Jarey's body.

Another, smaller, and they were done. Jarey found themself slumped in the chair, breathing hard, and Jaa'lir was massaging their shoulders, murmuring comforting nothings. It was relaxing and Jarey felt themself begin to settle further, eyes flickering and trying to close. Their body was so _heavy_ and they were so wrung out and exhausted from the events of the day.

"What was that?" Paz asked, and Jarey abruptly realised that his tone was _alarmed_. He was still holding Jarey's hands, but now his thumbs were tracing circles on the backs of them, seemingly unconsciously. It reminded Jarey of waking up in the Covert for the first time, Paz's hands gently stroking their ankles - but this time, it was a deeply reassuring feeling, untainted by the fear of their flight.

"Braxxoniks Contractions, false labour," said Jaa'lir, businesslike, as they went about a series of basic tests, then added, "They’re 'practise' contractions, Jarey's body getting ready for when they'll give birth. It's not a concern." They shook their head. "But unless I miss my guess, Jarey needs to follow the children to sleep."

Jarey didn't even bother to deny it, shaking their head and levering themself out of the seat.

"Yes, _baar'ur_ ," they began, half-laughing, and then Paz was on his feet in front of them, and Jarey shrieked as they found themself swept up into his arms like a child - _or maybe_ , said a traitorous part of their brain, _like an ancient royal in the arms of a knight_. Then they relaxed. It was just to the bunks, just this once. He was worried - surely they could let him be a little overprotective? And despite his armour, he was _warm_.

Unfortunately, Jarey's shriek had drawn the two elder children, and both of them _giggled_ as Paz passed them carrying Jarey.

"I'll be back to give you watch assignments," he said, in a calm, flat tone that said that _absolutely nothing_ was out-of-the-ordinary about him carrying an adult clanmate off to bed like a child. It provoked more giggling, and Jarey could hear Jaa'lir snickering in the cockpit.

When they reached the passenger cabin, Paz knelt and gently lowered Jarey straight onto the empty bunk, thankfully a lower one. Jarey relaxed back as he pulled the bedding out of its storage locker, eyes beginning to close already. He slipped their boots off and tucked the covers in, so-careful around their belly, and then Jarey felt his hand against the side of their throat, two fingers slipping under helmet seals to gently run along their jaw.

That gentle caress and the sound of snoring children sent Jarey off to sleep.

* * *

Chora VII Station was an orbiting station above an unremarkable agriworld on the edge of the Arkanis Sector. It was close enough to both the Corellian Run and the Triellis Trade Route that those who needed basic supplies could stop in without having to deal with anyone's bureaucracy. While not precisely a Shadowport, it was also discreet enough that those on the less-legal end of life could stop in and restock without drawing too much attention. Paz and Jaa'lir had agreed (with dubiously-helpful input from Emnellen and Kirren, and Jarey's shrugged agreement) that even if they didn't stay at the Kibaroon location, they needed supplies and fuel.

As the _Balac_ set down in one of the bays of the station, Jaa'lir swung the pilot's chair around, saying, "Okay, I'll go and see what I can find."

Paz, who was hovering (and trying not to look like it) behind the co-pilot's seat that Pakla was occupying, straightened, confused.

"Wait - shouldn't I?" He was undoubtedly the bigger and more heavily-armed of the two of them, and Jarey _definitely_ wasn't leaving the ship.

The medic shook their head, "No. The _Balac_ is clearly marked as a medical ship, and I've been through here before, on my medical contract runs. Anyone else coming out would be unusual and even _more_ suspicious."

Reluctantly, Paz had to concede that Jaa'lir was right. Their status as a Mandalorian _and_ a medic marked them out, even more than an individual Mandalorian, who were rare enough. But maybe - "I could come along as a bodyguard? If they know you, you could vouch for me?"

"Maybe. It's just supplies." Jaa'lir hummed, wiggling a hand back-and-forth. 

"Can I come?" burst in Pakla, practically _vibrating_ with excitement. Paz knew the feeling. He'd done his usual evening and morning workouts - and helped the children with theirs - but he was still a little twitchy from the battle yesterday.

 _"No_ , _"_ replied both of the adults, flatly. As Pakla's face fell, Paz crouched, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder at the inevitable disappointment. "Pakla, I know why you want to leave the ship - you want to explore - but this isn't a place where it's safe to do that."

" _Whyyyyy_?" the girl whined, and Paz took a deep breath in through his nose, restraining himself from dropping his head into his hands. He'd had as much contact with the Foundlings as any other warrior at the Covert, and he _knew_ that once a child got that tone of voice, you had to provide a good answer quickly, or you'd have a meltdown on your hands.

Jaa'lir came to his rescue, replying, "This isn't a Shadowport, but it might as well be. There are many people here who would like to harm us," - they gesture between Paz and themself - "for no reason other than we're _Mando'ade_. But we're adults, we can fight back. You're still in training, and will be for a while. Even Emnellen is staying on the ship. _Jarey_ is staying, because it's safer for them and the baby."

The girl seemed to ponder that for a moment, then nodded, small face serious.

"So it's _really_ not safe, _ori'vod_? You're not just trying to make sure we're good?" When both adults nodded, she nodded again, and then said, "I'll go and tell the others, they might not know," hopping down from the co-pilot seat and determinedly marching out of the cockpit.

Paz sighed and said to Jaa'lir, "I'll stay here." He _wanted_ to go, but if he stayed here, it would be easier to keep the children in line - Jarey couldn't keep all six of them out of trouble, even as talented as they were with the _ad'ike_.

The medic snorted, "Okay. Be a good role-model, _ori'vod_." Paz aimed an idle swat at them as they left the cockpit, and they dodged, snickering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was writing this, I was wondering who Paz's contact should be, and then the casting news about Tem came up and that answered the question nicely. Also you will pry the (now-former) canon that the Fetts are Mandalorian and that Jango was _Mand'alor_ after Jaster Mereel out of my _cold dead hands_.  
> Kibaroon and Chora VII (Chora Seven) Station are of my own invention, though Roon, Molavar, Vergesso Shadowport, and the Arkanis Sector are all canon places, and the Corellian Run and Triellis Trade Route are canon hyperspace routes.
> 
>  _Haashun_ \- Parchment bread, a thin sheet of bread dried to preserve it, and reconstituted in liquid, a Mandalorian ration-pack staple. Made properly, it's so thin you can see through it, hence the name, 'see-bread'.  
>  _Mand'alor_ \- Sole ruler of Mandalore, Head of the Clans and their chiefs, war leader for the whole of the Mandalorian people.  
> Braxxoniks Contractions - Adapted Star Wars name for Braxton-Hicks contractions.
> 
> Faceclaims for the children (stock photos except for the Twi'lek, which is by Lisjonok on Tumblr: https://lisjonok.tumblr.com/post/132743721026/one-of-djonwis-kids-feen-trying-on-his-goggles):
> 
> Pakla (F, Rutian Twi'lek, 5)  
> 
> 
> Jurir (F, Noorian, 3 - she has gold-and-green striped eyes)  
> 
> 
> Kirren (M, Human, 8)  
> 
> 
> Emnellen (F, Human,10)  
> 
> 
> Isett (M, Near-Human, 4 - he has red eyes similar to a Chiss)  
> 
> 
> Vashka (M, Near-Human, 4)  
> 


	8. The Strays

Waiting for Jaa'lir to come back with supplies was _tedious_ , but keeping the children occupied was harder. Paz was infinitely grateful that Jarey not only did it well, but didn't seem to resent it. The first couple of hours weren't too bad - knife drills for the children, and then helping Jarey with their movement-and-stretch routine - but by the time Jarey was done and resting in the galley with a jug of water, the children were restless. They were used to being able to run around the Covert and the sewer system as they pleased, and a cargo bay - however empty - wasn't nearly big enough.

He'd just started them on a game of Twisting Squares when Jaa'lir came steaming up the cargo ramp like an entire battalion of stormtroopers was after them. Paz immediately reached for the breastplate, jetpack, and cannon he'd set aside while helping Jarey, but the medic waved a denial at him, pacing across the hold and back. Jarey appeared from the galley - Paz noted contentedly that they looked better - and the children, understanding that something unexpected was happening, began untangling themselves. As the ramp clunked back into place, Jaa'lir stopped pacing and looked up, asking, "How hard is it to keep a strill?"

Well, thought Paz, that was not what he'd expected. 

"From what I understand, not hard, if you don't mind that they drool _everywhere_ ,” he replied. “They need meat at least once a week but rations are OK most of the time. Why?"

Jaa'lir shot a look over at him, and replied, absolutely flat, "Because one of the cantinas has a young adult strill in a _cage_ as _entertainment_ , and I'd like to relieve them of it."

"Right," Paz replied, and reached for his discarded armour, strapping it on with practised movements. Strills were six-legged predators native to Mandalore, and quite rare even there. If someone here had one, it was certain to have been taken from a _Mando'ad_ at some point, because nobody but one of the _Mando'ade_ would keep one, except as a trophy. They had to retrieve it and either return it to its owner - though it was likely they were dead - or look after it.

"Will you need credits?" Jarey was asking as Paz clipped on his cannon feed and test-cycled it. He was coming, there was no way he was going to miss this - and Jaa'lir could use the backup.

Jaa'lir laughed, brittle and harsh. "They don't get paid for this _osik_. If they bought it, we'll hunt down whoever sold it." Jarey made a protesting noise, and Jaa'lir added, "Strills can live two to three hundred years and are passed down in families. That one is an adult in its first century, by its colouring, but I haven't seen it here before. So it was taken from its owner at their death."

 _"Oh_ , _"_ said Jarey, in the sudden tone of realisation, and then added, seriously, "Make them pay, then." Paz grinned, sliding the cannon into rest position. Jarey was adapting well to being a _Mando'ad._

* * *

The cantina was busy, but not packed. For all that it was early in the morning for the planetary timezone, spacers didn't keep standard hours. A bolo-ball game was playing in one corner, and cooking smells came from the kitchen, but what they were interested in was in pride of place at the corner of the bar. There was a cage made of durasteel bars, around sixty centimetres deep and high, and no more than a couple of metres long. The strill was curled in one corner, a mass of loose skin and brindled gold-and-brown fur and misery, and two Weequay cantina patrons were busy poking at it and trying to get it to respond.

Jaa'lir led the way over, and Paz felt no guilt about grabbing the Weequay by the scruffs of their necks and depositing them to one side. They turned as one, hands already on blasters, and then looked up - and _up_ \- at Paz, who had one hand on his cannon and his long vibroblade already unsheathed. He gave a threatening growl, and the Weequay immediately put up their hands and backed away. Meanwhile, Jaa'lir had grabbed the barman and was dragging him over the bar, growling out questions. Paz folded his arms, watching for a moment, but Jaa'lir seemed to have it well in hand, so he turned back to the cage, looking for the door.

"Hey, _strill'ika_ , _me'bana_?" he said softly. At the sound of _Mando'a_ , the strill pulled its head out its little ball of gloom and looked over to him. There was something heartbreakingly weary about the creature's movement, and Paz's heart sank. Strills were highly intelligent, semi-sentient animals, and if it had been here too long, if its spirit had been broken -

Then it seemed to register Paz's armour and the Mandalorian T-visor, and its demeanour utterly changed. It was on its feet in an instant, big mouth lolling open, scrabbling at the bars, making high-pitched whines. Paz found the cage door - closed with nothing more than a bolt and basic padlock - and sliced through the lock with his vibroblade, letting the creature free. It immediately scrambled out, and started sniffing and drooling all over Paz's shoulders, whining happily. Paz picked it up and set it on the ground - it was lighter than an animal of its size should have been, all skin and bone, and it bore scars and unhealed wounds. Most of them were definitely inflicted by blades, and others that were probably whips or prods. It twined through his legs, rubbing its face all over Paz's greaves and cuisses. He fought back a wry laugh - through the helmet filters, he couldn't smell the distinctive strill-stink, but he was sure he'd have to wash his armour.

"We're leaving," Jaa'lir snapped out, dropping the barman and gesturing to Paz, their voice sharp with rage. 

Paz petted the creature's head, and gently pushed it down, saying _"Taab!"_ and stepped forward. He followed as Jaa'lir stalked out of the bar, their gait tense and almost ragged around the edges. He glanced down, and the strill was there, at his heel - definitely trained. It trotted after him, its odd six-legged gait bouncy, but sticking so close to him that he had to make sure his pace was even to avoid tripping over it. The cantina's patrons backed off, looking away and keeping quiet lest they drew the attention of the Mandalorians.

When they reached the ship, the strill's head lifted, scenting the air, and it leapt up onto the ramp before it was even half-lowered, making an odd chittering noise. Paz scrambled onto the ramp and followed at a run, worried. _Strille_ were dangerous predators, and letting it near Jarey and the children without the ability to protect them in case of issues was asking for trouble.

He rushed through the cargo bay, following the shrieks of excited children to the galley to see the strill enthusiastically attempting to clamber into Jarey's (very limited) lap. It was making purring, chittering, happy noises and rubbing its drool-covered jaws all over Jarey's belly. The children were alternately laughing at its antics and trying to pet the strill, which was ignoring them in favour of Jarey.

* * *

Jarey had been resting in the galley, readying to try rounding up the children for midmeal, when shrieks of surprise from the cargo bay brought them to their feet. An animal scrambled through the arch into the galley, and Jarey barely had time to register it - brindled fur, long predator's muzzle filled with teeth, _six legs_ \- before it was on them. There was a moment of terror as Jarey tried to fend it off, reaching for their vibroblade, and then its movement and _noises_ registered. It was making an odd purring noise, and it was attempting to rub its face - covered in drool, ew - all over Jarey's belly and legs.

The children had followed it in and through the inevitable noisy chaos, Jarey determined that this was a strill. Paz arrived a moment later, and then Jaa'lir. Jarey couldn't help the sarcastic, "This is a strill, I gather," because there were _definitely_ some details missing in the initial discussion. Paz's slight, disappointed slump of shoulders was sudden, and Jarey decided to give in. It was a weird, six-legged, drooling creature, but it was _ridiculously_ affectionate, despite the scars and wounds it clearly bore. Jarey had once, briefly, had a pet kath hound, so they tried petting it the same way, dug their fingers into the ruff of skin and fur at the strill's neck and gave it a good rub. It felt a little like trying to pet a deflated cushion, but the texture of its fur was velvety and pleasant, and the strill's purring intensified. It had loved that, so they accompanied it with the customary praise. "Aren't you a good strill? Yes you are! _Jate strill! Jatne strill!_ "

The strill went into ecstasies at the praise, and began frantically licking at Jarey's helmet with a long grey tongue. Both Paz and Jaa'lir began laughing, and Paz replied through chuckles, "Yes, that's a strill. I'd forgotten - they're a hermaphroditic species, so they're very protective of, and happy with, babies and pregnant women - uh, people. I wouldn't be surprised if it tries to build you a nest, or at least sleeps with you."

Jarey gaped at him, though the helmet hid it. They'd _accidentally acquired_ an animal that was not only _very_ Mandalorian, but was very protective of someone who was pregnant, and their baby? The galaxy had the weirdest sense of humour sometimes.

"Well. I guess it needs a name, then," they said with a bemused sigh.

The children had a _lot_ of ideas, and midmeal ended up being a lot later than intended.

* * *

On a station that largely survived by being well-stocked and not asking too many questions, the supplies arrived quickly enough. The generic ration boxes went away without comment, but the limited amount of fresh and preserved food - including a huge preserved side of nerf - made the smallest children's eyes go wide and excited, and Jarey had the sad realisation that they had likely never seen that amount of fresh food. They thought back to the times they had helped with food in the Covert, and the amount of food that was cheap ration bars and things derived from it suddenly slotted into place. The Mandalorians' beloved spices helped to disguise the blandness of ration bars, which Jarey had grown to dislike the same as everyone else.

The sheets and planks of plastoid for wall repair, as well as the huge tubs of synthetic plaster, were quickly turned into a game, and Jarey was called to referee even though the rules were made up at best and changed every few minutes. They had seated themself in the middle of the bay, up against the gunwell on a spare crate. The strill - now called Kotep, because the children had insisted that its survival proved its bravery - had curled itself at Jarey's feet. Jarey had used the time to clean and apply sealant patches over its wounds, and the attention had the strill drooling a puddle that everyone was studiously avoiding.

Jaa'lir rolled a pair of reels of cabling up the ramp, and Paz followed, bearing a carton of light-strips and a box of miscellaneous electrical components that Jarey didn't recognise. "Well, we're almost done," the medic said, "Just a few more crates for Paz to bring up, and waiting for the fuelling to finish."

Jarey wasn't sure if they were relieved or not - simultaneously, this was the closest to a break they'd had, and more difficult because they had to help keep the children occupied and out of trouble.

"How long will that take?" they asked, still not very knowledgeable about ships.

"Fuelling - something around an hour," Jaa'lir replied, and then a sly tone entered their voice, "Crates - well, ask Paz."

The big Mandalorian crossed his arms and his helmet tilted back, an exaggeratedly put-upon stance. "I'm just muscle to you, aren't I, _baar'ur_? No respect."

"I'll respect you more when you've done what you're asked," replied the medic, quick and amused, and Paz laughed and wandered back down the ramp. He came back up a few minutes later, pushing a pair of big hovercrates, and at Jaa'lir's direction, stacked them in the corridor by the starboard engineering bay. As he deactivated the hover function on the crates, setting them down, Kotep lifted its head and scented the air. Carefully, it untangled itself from Jarey's feet and paced over to the new crates. After sniffing at them extensively, it clambered up on top and stretched out, clearly settling in.

It was the first time the strill had left Jarey's side, other than when they went to the fresher, and Jarey stared over at it, mildly confused. The sudden change was odd, and there was something going on - but then again, if they only had around an hour before they left, then Jarey could use this strill-free time while they were still hooked up to the station's water supply to get in a decent _water shower_ . They hadn't had one since they had left the Imperials, and while sonic showers were effective, they weren't anything near as relaxing as a water shower, and they never felt as clean. Humming happily, they levered themself up off their crate, only to find Jaa'lir, Kirren, and Pakla all immediately beside them to offer a hand and ask where they were going. The response of "I'm going to have a _water_ shower while we're still hooked up to the station," got a groan of annoyance from the medic, apparently for thinking of it first, and therefore having first right to it. Then Jaa'lir tried to insist that Jarey have help, and eventually bargained them into to helping the younger children to bathe. Jarey wasn't put out by it - a water shower had been their only real objective.

Jarey had their shower, and the four younger children were washed and were allowed to splash around in the shallow tub gleefully for a while. Back when they had first arrived at the Covert, Jarey had been very nervous about nudity, as they had been raised to expect and enforce complete modesty. But one of their first tasks had been to help with the children, who had been bathed one-after-the-other in the sonics, with only one or maybe two adults to make sure that they were actually clean. There was a curtain rather than a door, and by the third time someone had walked into one of the freshers without knocking, Jarey had resigned themself to a complete lack of privacy in bathing and other ablutions. This time was no different - Jarey's pregnant belly had been subject to much investigation as they showered, especially as the child kicked.

By the time Jarey and the four youngest had washed, the two older and Jaa'lir taking turns after, Paz had brought the rest of the crates onboard and was waiting in the galley, stripped down to flightsuit, gloves, boots, and helmet, clearly waiting impatiently for his turn.

"Oh Paz, we're leaving now, no time for you to -" began Jaa'lir, in nothing but a tunic, towel draped around their hips, but then broke into laughter as Paz loomed above them, posture threatening. He stalked off towards the fresher, and that was the end of that.

* * *

A few hours later, they were back in hyperspace. Kotep still hadn't moved from on top of the crates, and Jarey was beginning to worry, given the strill's previous behaviour. They walked over, and Kotep perked up. Jarey scruffled its fur, murmuring gentle praise, and the strill leaned into the petting, leaning forward to rub its face against Jarey's shoulder and helmet. "Why are you staying here?" Jarey asked, quiet. Clearly the strill was as affectionate as ever, but it was here for a reason.

The strill leapt to its feet, for a moment nosing at the crate, and Jarey decided to humour the strill, unclipping the side of the crate and starting to open it. The creature immediately wormed its way in through the opening, and its bulk forced the crate all the way open, the side coming down on the deck with a smack. The children, drawn by the noise, abandoned their hyperspace calculation lessons in the galley and crowded around, blocking the dim light of the corridor.

The crate was mostly full of some large engineering component - Jarey didn't know enough to identify it - and the strill was nosing at a little cloth bundle, and purring fit to burst. Jarey reached forward, gently lifting the bundle, and gasped as the strill nudged it into their arms.

It was a child, wrapped in filthy rags that had probably once been blue, but their warm brown skin and curly black hair were clean. The child was sleeping heavily - too heavily. Even with Jarey's inexperience with babies, they knew that they should have woken up by now. "Isett - Vashka -" they said, quick and worried, "Get Jaa'lir. Now." Their tone brooked no argument, and the two boys skittered off towards the cockpit.

Jarey lifted the child, gently uncovering its face, feeling at the little neck. The child was a good temperature, not cold and not feverish. They had no idea how old the child was, but they were very small. The touch seemed to rouse the child a little, and it made a quiet little mumble that tore into Jarey's heart. They snuggled it into their now-ample chest, feeling unaccountably protective and suddenly deeply off-balance. They found tears standing in their eyes. Whoever had put this child into this crate had had absolutely zero certainty that the child would survive, but had been desperate enough to try. They couldn't even imagine giving up their child - one hand slid down to their belly for a moment - except in the most dire of circumstances.

The child had been hidden, probably by a slave or indentured worker, and they had hoped that their child would be safe with whoever opened the crate. Something rose in Jarey's chest - something very _Mandalorian_ \- and they found that they couldn't dishonour the sacrifice and protection that the child's parent had tried to give it. This little one was no less precious than the child that grew in their womb.

"Jarey, why have you opened my crate - _oh_ ," came Jaa'lir's voice, and Jarey stood, turning towards the other adults who had just arrived. Paz made a strangled noise, like he'd just been punched in the stomach. He reached out, and without question, Jarey placed the child in his arms. His only armour was vambraces and leg armour, so when he nestled the child into his flak vest, it was into warm material and muscle, not _beskar_.

"I don't know how this child got here," Jarey said, and the certainty was absolute in their voice, "But it has been abandoned or sent to us by the _Ka'ra_ for safety. It is a Foundling."

"I will care for this child," came Paz's voice, and one big gloved hand came up to cup the child's head. He was looking intently down at the child in his arms, and as he did so, the child's eyes blinked open. It reached up towards Paz's face, tiny hands brushing against the mandibles of his helmet. For a long second, everything stood still, and then the child gave a thin, reedy cry. "Shhh," said Paz, gentler and quieter than Jarey had ever heard, brushing a gloved finger across the child's cheek. The child leaned into the touch, and Paz gave a little rumble of contentment.

As Jaa'lir bustled forward and directed Paz to the medical suite, something in Jarey's head said, _he will be good with my baby too_ , and for a long second, their as-yet-unknown baby was the one in Paz's arms, and Jarey _wanted_ it to be so. _Oh no_ , they realised, _I want Paz to take care of my baby - and me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that was a deliberate lampshade. Also where the hell the baby came from I have no idea, the plot said it should happen.
> 
> Twisting Squares - Adapted Star Wars version of Twister. Every single kid I've ever come across loves Twister, I have no idea why.  
>  _Strill'ika_ \- _Strill_ and _'ika_ (diminutive suffix), 'little strill', a cute diminutive for a strill, like calling an adult dog 'puppy'.  
>  _Me'bana_ \- 'What's happening?'/'What's up?'  
>  _Taab_ \- Literally 'foot', here used as 'heel'.  
>  _"Jate strill! Jatne strill!"_ \- 'Good strill! Best strill!'  
>  _Kotep_ \- Brave.


	9. The Meeting

In hyperspace between Chora VII and Kibaroon, Paz discovered that bored children, especially ones that were smart, inventive, and used to being highly active, as these were, could be destructive, dangerous, messy, or all of the above. It was never intentional, but no matter how hard Paz ran them in training, how much Jaa'lir taught them about piloting or first aid, or how much Jarey (with the help of Kotep) doted over them, they just… got into trouble.

Paz knew he shouldn't be entertained by their antics, but his favourite thus far was when Isett and Vashka had discovered the point at which the gravity-rotation on the gunwell tunnels swapped, and had spent a couple of hours seeing how fast and slow they could throw things to each other along the tunnels. It wasn't dangerous, but by the time they had graduated to the point of three things in the air at one time, Kotep was standing at the entrance, swiping at the passing objects and chittering happily every time it caught something. Unfortunately, the strill's drool wasn't just a hazard to people, but to itself - one paw slipped, there was no hold on the deck, and the strill fell. Isett, in the lower tunnel, had only a moment to yell before he was bowled over by the animal. Paz had turned off his mic and snickered at their crestfallen expressions as Jaa'lir treated everyone's scrapes, lecturing all the while.

It was possible that he was a little loopy from worry and lack of consistent sleep. The new Foundling - as yet unnamed - had been more-or-less given entirely into his care. He hadn't yet said the _gai bal manda_ , but everyone knew that the little boy would soon be his son. He still didn't know why, but the moment he had seen the child, wrapped in filthy rags, lying so still in Jarey's arms, he knew that the _ik'aad_ was important, precious, someone for him to protect and guide and love. He hadn't let the child out of his arms until he'd had to eat, and then had only surrendered him to Jarey briefly. They had fortunately picked up a crate of baby formula - in case Jarey's milk didn't come in - so he'd had something to feed the boy when he woke properly, and every few hours since then. In the quiet, dark hours of shipboard night, he paced around the galley, gently rocking the child as he drank, and thanked the _Ka'ra_ that they had given this precious little life into his care.

Unfortunately, this had put more stress on everyone else. With less attention from him, the children had less to occupy them, and though he carried out their training, it was often interrupted by the crying baby. Jarey was now less than six weeks out from their due date, and tired easily, so Jaa'lir had been saddled with most of the physical childcare, though Jarey diligently carried on with literacy and mathematics lessons. Every time he thought one of them would give up under the stress, they rallied, and he admired their mental strength.

Nearly four full days in hyperspace, interrupted only briefly for course corrections, had everyone climbing the walls, literally as well as figuratively. The children had grown fractious and every one of them had had at least one tantrum, even steady Emnellen. Kotep had had its tail stood on three times and had moped around making increasingly pathetic noises until it was petted out of its sulk. The new Foundling had woken everyone up with crying the first night, and Paz had taken to sleeping sprawled across the galley couch, because the little one slept better (and therefore more quietly) when he was cuddled up to Paz's chest in a makeshift sling.

Paz was wearing almost no armour, because between baby spit-up and strill drool, it had taken nearly an hour to clean the first time and he had no extra energy to clean it all every night. It made him vaguely itchy, to not be wearing the _beskar_ that had defined his life for so long, but every time he looked down at the child's curious amber-brown eyes, it was worth it. Better that his son be warm and hear his heartbeat than be chilled by silent _beskar_.

So Paz watched with a sigh of relief as Jaa'lir coached Kirren through the last course correction and sent them into hyperspace for the last time before they reached Kibaroon.

* * *

Jarey woke early on the fourth day, their baby kicking them hard in the kidneys. The child had been increasingly active over the last few weeks, and neither Jarey nor Jaa'lir knew why. Jaa'lir had theorised that perhaps it had something to do with increasingly frequent Braxxoniks Contractions, but after some monitoring, the _baar'ur_ had concluded that whatever the reason, it hadn't harmed either Jarey or the child, so they hadn't taken further action. "Time to get up, huh?" They peeled themself out of the bunk, picking up fresh clothes and heading for the fresher.

Once they were clean and freshly dressed, helmet and cloak on (and a load of clothing put in the sonic washer), Jarey headed for the galley. It was still early enough that the lights hadn't brightened from the dimmed night setting, and they started a cup of tea. In the coming weeks, they would have to ration both caf and tea, but the one-a-day Jarey was allowed wasn't going to deplete the supply too badly. As they brewed and then sipped the tea through a food-tube, they looked over to the galley couch, where Paz was sprawled in his now-customary sleeping position, the baby close to his chest in a sling. His arm was wrapped protectively around the child's body, though his head was tipped back in sleep. Between the loosened collar of his flightsuit and his unlatched helmet seals, a swathe of warm brown skin showed.

For the first time, Jarey let themself _look_. Though they didn't know his face, Paz was tall and heavily muscular, the result of years of training and experience in both war and hunting. His shoulders and arms strained the material of his flightsuit and his chest and torso were broad and strong. Jarey had seen him shirtless once by accident, after a minor scrape during a spar gone wrong, and the sight of his bare skin and the thick muscle of his torso had sent a flush of heat through them. In the following days, they had had to squash several daydreams about how his body would feel pressed up against theirs.

They wanted him, in a way that they had never wanted anyone before, and it was both shocking and exciting.

When young, Jarey had been cloistered and under constant control; any attraction they experienced was purely theoretical, distant, and fast faded. Attraction had been the last of their concerns in their choice of spouse - though Orsic had been passingly good-looking, he had a decent reputation and was a good deal higher in the Imperial Precedence than Jarey's family, and willing to marry a young woman who was fast falling off the marriage market. By the time they had been married a month, anything Jarey had felt was dead in the face of his abuse.

But Paz… his first actions towards Jarey were to protect them from the stormtroopers. Once the first blush of gratitude had faded and they had become friends, it settled into something else. Paz in full armour was intimidatingly large and dangerous, but without it, his bulk was softer - protective, sheltering, comforting. Jarey had realised that for all his physical prowess and abilities as a warrior, Paz was at heart a gentle man. Fierce, stubborn, sometimes hot-tempered and impulsive, but at the centre of it, he was loyal, he _cared_. His _aliit_ , the Tribe, the _Mando'ade_. He was everything that Jarey had never had, and they could admit that they were attracted to him not only for his strong body, but for the strong heart that matched it.

And to see him now, so careful and protective of the child who he would likely adopt, Jarey knew that they wanted him to care for their child as well, to act as a father to the baby. They knew, intellectually, that their pregnancy hormones were pushing them into seeking a partner to help care for their child, but… Jarey _wanted him_ , emotionally as well as physically. In whatever capacity they could have him. At the moment, that was as a friend and clanmate. Perhaps sometime in the future, they could consider something else, but now - with the worry of the new Foundling and the upcoming birth - now was not the time.

The tea was gone, and Jarey sighed, putting the cup and food-tube in the washer, and went to sort out the clean clothes.

* * *

As they came out of hyperspace and began the approach to Kibaroon, Paz carefully handed the new Foundling over to Jarey and donned his armour. The children watched intently as Paz went from flightsuit, boots, gloves, and helmet to full armour in less than ten minutes. He hooked up his cannon and set it in rest position, and then reached for the baby. Jarey handed the little boy back, and Paz settled him back in his arms, meticulously making sure that the boy would not be touching the still-cold _beskar_. The baby wriggled, freeing one tiny hand, waving it until it landed on Paz's breastplate. Paz let out a snort of laughter, obscurely proud of the boy's tenacity. 

"You'll be a fine warrior. Already looking for your _beskar_." That got him a gummy smile, and he gently ran a finger across his son's cheek. "Come on, time to watch the landing."

Everyone crowded into the cockpit as Jaa'lir piloted them down towards the coordinates that they had been sent. They descended to a large island chain, following a rocky river valley inland. The cliffs and outcroppings were covered with a thick canopy of trees, and plumes of thick white steam rose from various points, confirming the information about volcanism. The valley burst out into a lake, and cradled in the hills at one end was a spectacular series of stepped white terraces filled with pools of steaming water, a thick haze covering the surrounding slopes. Paz breathed out a sigh - he'd seen a lot of beautiful places, but this was like nothing he'd ever seen. Jaa'lir slowed the ship a little, and there was a silent moment of awe.

Then, for a second, the steam at the top of the terraces parted, and the open space of a landing area butted up against a cliffside hangar became visible. "Look!" screeched out one of the children, and Paz whistled. That was ingenious, though dealing with the humidity was probably a nightmare.

As they approached at a slow landing speed, the haze clearing with less distance, Jaa'lir made an unhappy noise - there was no other ship there. 

"Paz. Your call," they said, voice tense.

"Land, but keep the engines running until we've got a confirm," Paz replied. "I'd hoped he'd already be -"

He was cut off by the proximity alarm shrieking. Instinctively, Jaa'lir threw the ship into a tight bank, and the shadow of another ship swept over the cockpit as everyone grabbed for handholds. Paz clutched tight at the baby, bracing himself in the doorway, heart plummeting to his boots. If Fett had betrayed them… Anger swelled.

Spiralling them out of the bank, Jaa'lir slapped the alarm off, smacked the comms board for an open channel and yelled, " _Shabla utreekov_! Do you want to get shot out of the sky?!"

"You can try," came an amused response, thick with the broad vowels of Concord Dawn. The other ship - the unmistakeable Firespray - swooped in over the _Balac_ and hovered in front, cockpits lining up. The polarisation of the windshield cleared, and the infamous bounty hunter became clearly visible at the helm. "But it'll be harder than you think. Vizsla?"

"Fett," Paz returned, allowing a little of his anger to show. "Remember how I said we had children aboard?" The mentioned children were all clinging to each other and various handholds, and at the acknowledgement of the _beroya_ , Isett and Vashka begin whispering frantically to each other.

"They're _Mando'ade_ , they're tough," came the careless response, and Paz suppressed a growl. The bounty hunter had endangered his children, Foundlings, and clanmates. "I'll open the hangar and then we can discuss things. Land in space _dorn_. Fett out." The channel snapped off, and this time Paz did growl.

"What an _asshole_ ," said Jarey into the silence following, and the tension dissipated into slightly-hysterical laughter as Jaa'lir followed Fett down.

The massive doors of the hangar parted to reveal a substantial space, a round, arena-like area lit by a ring of massive glowpanels that flickered as they powered on. The walls were carved into a stacked series of balconies and broad windows, maintenance bays beneath the widest bottom balcony. A sweeping set of stairs came down from a large pair of doors at the centre of the balcony to the hangar floor. Faded landing markings ringed the landing area, which centred on a circular platform raised about a handspan off the floor, painted with a massive mythosaur skull. Neatly, Jaa'lir set the ship down in the space marked with a faded _dorn_ , engines powering down but not off.

Isett and Vashka immediately made to escape, but Paz was in the doorway and stopped them with a shake of his head. "I'll go out on my own first. You two - _you all_ \- are to _stay put_ until Jarey, Jaa'lir, or I say you can come out."

"I'm coming with you," said Jarey, levering themself out of the co-pilot seat. "Or you can leave your Foundling with me. Jaa'lir needs to be here to pilot, so it's me or one of the children."

A shiver of horror shot down Paz's spine as he realised that he had been about to leave the ship with his son in his arms. He couldn't hold the child and fight, and there was no way he could take Jaa'lir and leave the piloting (or the shooting) to one of the children. So he had to leave the child with Jarey, but he wasn't letting them be in the way of a possible firefight. "No, you're not coming," he said, absolutely sure. It was his job to have this dangerous first meeting, to protect them.

"I can make my own decision, Paz. It's a sign of good faith," Jarey said - insisted - reaching for the child in his arms. He let them take the boy, settling him easily against their shoulder. "I'll just come to the bottom of the ramp, if you're worried," they added.

"He saw you all in the cockpit," argued Paz, because he was worried. "That's close enough."

"Jarey has a point, _vod_ ," interrupted Jaa'lir. "We're going to be in close quarters with him for at least a week. Best to start marching on the right foot."

* * *

Jarey re-settled the Foundling against their shoulder, and the little boy instinctively nuzzled in against the soft wool of their cloak. For a second, it distracted from the tension in Paz's stance, and Jaa'lir's unexpected support. Jarey understood Paz's concern - they were equally concerned about what the bounty hunter could do to all of them - but at the same time, they knew that they were strong enough to present themself properly and represent the Tribe. And smart enough to know when things were going wrong and they needed to get out.

"I'm _Ad be Alor_ ," they added, injecting their confidence into their tone as best they could. "I can - and will - represent my _buir_ and the _aliit_ with honour."

For a long moment, Paz's visor was aimed straight down into theirs, and Jarey could see the moment he accepted their decision, the tension settling into his shoulders. He nodded, and turned. Silently, Jarey followed him to the exit ramp, pausing as he hit the controls and the ramp started to lower. As they waited, Paz turned towards them, a certain hesitancy in his movement. He reached out, and rested a hand against Jarey's shoulder. "If I tell you to run, _do it_ ," he said, and it was a plea more than an instruction. His hand tightened for a second, and then he let go and brushed a gentle caress against the Foundling's tiny cheek, infinitely gentle.

"I will," Jarey replied, catching his hand for a moment and squeezing, looking up into his visor and willing him to understand. He nodded, squeezing back, and then let go, turning to go down the ramp. Jarey followed him down, and they emerged into the hangar. It was now lit brightly, all the glowpanels at full intensity. Across the landing area, Fett's ship was set down, engines powered off and ramp down. The man himself was standing at the centre of the mythosaur mark, arms crossed and no weapons in his hands, but Jarey knew that he was far from unarmed. As they had said, they stopped at the bottom of the ramp and let Paz carry on forward to meet Fett.

They turned up their mic pickups, hoping to be able to hear some of the conversation, and thus heard the bounty hunter comment sarcastically, "You've been busy, Vizsla," nodding towards them. It took a second, then Jarey felt their face heat as they understood what he was implying.

"They're my clanmate, Fett, and _Ad be Alor_ ," replied Paz, firmly, clearly not prepared to take any _osik_. "The child is a Foundling."

" _N'eparavu takisit_ ," Fett replied to him, and then his helmet turned directly towards Jarey, and he raised his voice and repeated, " _N'eparavu takisit_."

For a second, Jarey was stunned. From everything Paz had said, Fett was a proud man and didn't much care for anyone's opinion. And here he was apologising for a minor, teasing comment. Clearly, he was trying to start on this agreement - whatever it ended up being - decently. That gave them the confidence to step forward, and Paz's visor swivelled to follow them after no more than two steps. He stayed where he was, allowing them to come closer but still blocking their approach, in a position where he could intercept any threats. Jarey stopped on the raised area just behind him, looked directly at Fett, and replied, " _Naas_. No offence taken."

Fett nodded, and then got straight to business, looking between them as he set out terms. 

"This base will be clear for at least the next four weeks, you can stay for that time. Longer, and any other people arriving, will be discussed on a case-by-case. I'll be here for the first few days but I'll have to leave for a job after that. I'll show you the security setup, but you shouldn't need it - other than me, there's only half-a-dozen people who know this place still exists. I don't expect further payment than the repair and supplies you've brought. We're even after this, Vizsla."

"That's fair," Paz said, and stepped forward, extending one hand. Fett caught it in a solid grasp, forearm-to-forearm, vambraces meeting with a light _thunk_. As they let go, Fett turned slightly towards Jarey, and Paz stepped aside, clearly prompting Jarey to respond as well.

"It's a deal," they said, and stepped forward, extending their hand and repeating the arm-clasp. As they did so, it jostled the baby in their arms, and he started to gripe. Hastily, Jarey resettled him and rocked a little, soothing him with a quiet, "Shhh, shhh, _udesii_." Fett huffed out a quiet chuckle, and without thinking about it, Jarey looked up at him and snapped, "Unless you want to be included in the feeding and changing roster, quiet."

That prompted another chuckle from the _beroya_ , "I'd rather not, thanks. And you are?"

"Jarey Paraktan," they replied, and then indicated the baby. "This one is our newest Foundling - he only came to us when we stopped in at Chora VII. He's not named yet."

"Paz! Can we come out yet?" came a yell down the ship's ramp, and Jarey rolled their eyes, recognising Isett's voice. Of course the not-twins would be both impatient enough _and_ bold enough to ask.

Paz's head tipped back and a faint sigh crackled in his vocoder. His put-upon tone was infinitely familiar to parents and caregivers across the galaxy as he turned and called out a reply, "Yes, Isett, you can come out once you tell Jaa'lir that they can power down the engines."

"Okay!" came the response, and then the clatter of running feet - both into _and_ out of the ship. Paz had instructed Isett to tell Jaa'lir, but had neglected to tell Vashka that he had to as well. Jarey suppressed a giggle as the second boy skidded to a halt between Paz and Jarey, and Paz let out a longer sigh, his hand twitching with a clear urge to facepalm. For a long second, the boy stared up at Fett, and was met by a blank visor. "You're really Boba Fett?"

Fett nodded, replying with a trace of amusement, "Yes."

The followup question was immediate. "Is it true that you put _Han Solo_ in carbonite?"

Fett nodded, and Jarey snickered as Paz gave in to the urge and buried his faceplate in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet, which is weird given it's kind of a filler chapter, but… plot? Is happening? I promise?
> 
>  _Gai bal manda_ \- 'Name and soul', which the adoption ceremony ( _Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad_ , 'I know your name as my child') confers to the adoptee.  
>  _Shabla_ \- Screwed up (impolite).  
>  _Utreekov_ \- fool/idiot, literally 'empty head'.  
>  _Dorn_ \- Aurebesh/Galactic Basic equivalent of the letter 'd'.  
>  _Ad be Alor_ \- Child of (belonging to) the Leader.  
>  _Naas_ \- Literally 'nothing', meaning 'it's nothing'.


	10. The Base

Within a couple of hours, the children had explored the base top-to-bottom, while the adults were hooking up the ships and moving the supplies. Once Fett had shown them the security setup in the comms-and-control centre, he was left to his own devices while the children dragged Paz and Jaa'lir around what they'd found, and Jarey napped.

The base was carved all the way through the hill, from the main hangar on the southern side to a stepped series of balconies on the northern side, which overlooked a valley that was terraced with long-neglected gardens. The upper floors were devoted exclusively to bedrooms, dormitories, and a few freshers. The middle floors were common rooms, salles and classrooms, the infirmary and kitchen, a bathing complex, and workshops - including a forge - with the comms centre and its attached data and holonet suite in the very centre. At the bottom, the hangar and its maintenance bays lead into storage. The most unusual feature was a tunnel leading from the main hangar back to a smaller hangar with a concealed entrance beneath the northern balconies - it was large enough for starfighters, but _Slave I_ would probably lose some paint and the _Balac_ wouldn't fit at all.

It had power and basic heating, but water (other than a basic ship hookup) wasn't working and only two sonic freshers off the hangar were active. The comms centre was in perfect working order, but the common rooms were dirty and had only carved stone benches. The maintenance bays and hangar were clean and in good repair, but the workshops in the balconies above them were not. The kitchen and infirmary were functional if not exactly spotless, but the bunkrooms and bedrooms were full of dust and most of the beds were nothing but stone ledges.

It was, Paz thought, the perfect illustration of a base that was nothing but a transit point - nothing permanent or even slightly homely, and it saddened him, thinking of the past _Mando'ade_ who had once had a home here. If they had been stopping there for only a few days - as originally planned - then it would have been no issue, functional but spartan. But they would be staying here for at least four weeks, and perhaps longer, and they had to tidy it up. It had been a long time since Paz had done any repair work, but between him, Jaa'lir, and (surprisingly) Fett, they figured out a plan for repairs. They would start with cleaning the rooms that needed nothing else, then start on repairing the necessary freshers and bedrooms. The workshops were last on the plan, as nobody needed them.

Two days in, and the infirmary was clean to Jaa'lir's standards, the kitchen was clean to Paz's, and the children were having great fun battling with suction cleaners, mops and buckets of water, 'cleaning' the common rooms. Paz had laughed himself silly at tiny Jurir bossing around the not-twins, waving a mop that was twice as tall as she was. They had succeeded, at least, in washing away all the debris.

The next task was getting the freshers in working order. Paz was very glad of his helmet filters and Jaa'lir's seemingly-endless supply of plastifilm gloves and boot covers as he fished around in the muck of the water reclamation system and the filtration tanks in the storage area. Whoever had built the base had been practical enough that all the freshers had been built backing onto corridors, where the pipes ran in culverts with regular access points, and then went straight down to collection tanks and then through filtration systems. However, they hadn't reckoned with years of neglect. Everything was clogged with dirt and muck and the grey-water tank was half filled with slime and half with weird debris, the drains clogged and unusable.

Which led to a medic, a heavy-infantryman, and a bounty hunter knee-deep in unspeakable mess, fishing out filter modules and trying not to gag too badly. Paz thought, slightly hysterically - though it might have been fumes - that it really humanised Boba Fett, seeing him stripped down to a filthy flightsuit and covered in waste. 

"Bit out of your usual range of jobs, isn't this, Fett?"

Surprisingly, that got him a snicker. "Yeah. If I'm mucking around in _osik_ , it's usually because I’m being paid for it," replied the _beroya_ , then added, "But having a proper bedroom and fresher will be nice, if only for when I'm here."

"Only got the ship?" asked Jaa'lir, and gave a small a-ha! of triumph as they managed to pry a filter loose. It popped out of the muck with a gelatinous sucking sound, and Jaa'lir heaved it over to sit on the side of the tank with the others. "I remember that. Guess I'm going back to that until there's a new Covert." They sounded sad, and Paz remembered that the Covert had been Jaa'lir's only home for many years, same as him.

He heaved out a sigh and dug down again into the slime. The loss of the Covert had really started to sink in on the long trip from Chora VII to Kibaroon, and he'd come to the realisation that he _missed_ it, more than he missed his long-ago home on Mandalore. He'd lived in the Covert longer than he'd lived on Mandalore, and it was what he thought of when he thought of home. But then - the _Mando'ade_ had always been the people and the culture, not the places, it was why they had survived. They would build a new home around their people.

Fett grunted and hauled up another filter module. "There's supposed to be twelve of these, right?"

"Yup," Paz replied, and managed to get a grip on what should be the last one. "This should be it." They lugged the filters over to the edge and hauled themselves out onto the grating that surrounded the tank. Paz made a noise of disgust at the filth they dripped onto the grating and the floor through it, and then grabbed a pair of filters, slopping awkwardly down the ladder to dump them in the buckets they'd scrounged up, Fett following his lead.

"Well, we'll need to scrub the filters," Jaa'lir said in a planning sort of tone as they came down with another pair of filters, and Paz nodded, turning back to get more. As he put his foot back on the bottom rung, there was an ominous crack, and they all looked up to see one of the seams of the grey-water tank bulging alarmingly.

"Oh _shavit_ ," Fett got out before the entire side wall of the grey-water tank collapsed and a tidal wave of muck cascaded down on them.

* * *

Jarey was roused from yet another involuntary nap on the Balac's galley couch by a shrieking Pakla. Kotep, which had been curled up around their belly, shot to its feet, wide mouth pulled open in a snarl. The girl skidded to a halt in the doorway, and the strill relaxed. "Jarey! They're all _covered in osik_!" Pakla shrieked, and Jarey hauled themself to their feet, shedding their cloak and the nest of blankets and pillows that the strill had somehow accumulated, tucking Paz's Foundling more securely into the sling across their chest. Whatever it was, it was probably a problem that they would need to figure out.

As they made their way down the ship's ramp, they heard an odd squishing sound, the source of which became obvious as soon as they reached the bottom. Limping from the storage rooms came three figures - barely recognisable as human, they were so covered in debris, slime, and waste. The only distinguishing feature was size - the biggest and most dirty sludge-monster had to be Paz, the smallest Jaa'lir, which left Fett as the one leading the group. He lead them over to the side of his ship, popping open a panel and extracting a hose, handing it to Jaa'lir, who proceeded to open the valve and spray the three of them. It didn't seem to do much.

"What _happened_?" Jarey asked, barely managing to fight back laughter at the ineffective attempts at cleaning.

"The grey-water tank collapsed and we got caught in it," replied Paz, his tone crestfallen and defeated. He scrubbed at the muck on his helmet, mostly just spreading it around. Jaa'lir made an agreeing sound, scraping gobs of gunk off their flightsuit.

"I'm going to have to replace this suit," Fett was muttering, "I take it back, it's not worth this."

 _Three mighty Mandalorian warriors, beaten by sewage_ , thought Jarey, and their self-control broke, and they fell into gales of laughter. Behind them, Pakla was sitting on the ground, almost crying with hilarity. The other children, drawn by the commotion, were gathering around, and as they figured out what happened, were beginning to laugh as well.

"Oh shut up," Jaa'lir sulked, and flung a glob of muck at Jarey. Too busy laughing to dodge, the mess hit Jarey on the shoulder, and they gasped at the _baar'ur_ in shock. Jaa'lir was so sensible most of the time, the childish action completely unlike them. Suddenly Paz was laughing too, and Jarey, and even Fett was chuckling quietly.

Meanwhile, Kotep had sidled forward, and after nosing at Paz's boots, let out a ringing sneeze. For a second it looked almost startled, and then it scampered back to wipe its now-dirty muzzle on Jarey's trousers. Jarey carefully knelt and petted it, and the strill snuggled into their side. Unfortunately, the strill's actions had allowed Isett to sneak forward, unnoticed by the rest of the children, scoop up two handfuls of muck, and fling them at Vashka. Equally unfortunately, his aim was off, and one landed on Kirren's stomach and the other straight in Pakla's face.

Chaos ensued.

Within five minutes, the area beside _Slave I_ was a mire of slime, waste, and unnameable debris, and all the children were throwing handfuls, wrestling, or otherwise battling with each other. Kotep was eagerly pouncing on everyone. Paz and Jaa'lir had both been dragged in, making it worse, and Jarey had found themself leaning against the curved base of Slave I, laughing at the mess and keeping the baby quiet. Fett had propped himself next to her, and was surreptitiously scraping off and throwing extra handfuls in where they would create the most chaos. Jarey had tilted their helmet questioningly, and the only response they'd gotten was a shake of the head and a shrug. It was a little odd, to realise that Boba Fett had a sense of humour.

Paz's Foundling began to grizzle, and Jarey sighed, patting his rear and finding his wrap damp. Time to get back to work. They were so tired. 

"Hey!" They called, trying to get everyone's attention, but the riotous pandemonium carried on. " _Hey_!" they tried again, only to be ignored. The baby began to whine in earnest.

" _NE'JOHAA_!" came a veritable roar from beside them, and everything came to an abrupt halt, except for the baby, who began a full-throated wail. Jarey looked over at Fett, who had just produced that noise. They didn't even know that people could yell that loud. "Right," he said, at a normal volume, and turned to them, "Paraktan?"

"Thank you," Jarey said, and began gently bouncing the baby in their arms. The crying carried on, but they soldiered on. "You all need to wash off like civilised people, and then, Paz, you need to feed your son."

"He's not -" came Paz's objection, as he scrambled to his feet, still caked in mud.

Jarey cut him off, glaring at him through their visor. "You _also_ need to say the _gai bal Manda_ , because we all know that you're adopting him. And count yourself lucky you need to wash or you'd be changing him as well." The tiredness was transmuting rapidly into annoyance. Paz was a smart man, he should be able to figure this out.

"But where -?" Paz was not helping himself, and Jarey was _done_. 

"There's an _entire lake_!" They gestured towards the hangar opening, where the steam from the terraces obscured the view. "Go jump in it!"

* * *

Jarey's abrupt departure, with the still-wailing baby, was… disconcerting. Five minutes ago, he'd been happily wrestling with the children, and now Jarey had stormed off and had also told him to go jump in the lake. It was a good idea for cleaning, but… they were unhappy, the baby was unhappy, and that made Paz unhappy too.

Clearly reading the mood, Fett took the lead, saying gruffly, "Come on then," and walking towards the hangar opening. Wordlessly, Paz and Jaa'lir started helping children to their feet, guiding them to follow. They picked their way down towards the lake, down a staircase that he assumed had been carved out for just this purpose. It was slick from the steam, and thankfully nobody fell, largely due to the remaining patches of grippy coating that remained on the steps.

When they reached the bottom, the strill bounded straight in, and Paz winced at the chunks of debris that floated away. At the adults' directions, the children followed its example, sploshing in with little grace and shrieks as they realised it was not warm. Paz hurried in to make sure that nobody was going to drown, helping the children to strip off and rinse their dirty clothes, stripping his own as he did so. Soon, there was a pile of sopping clothes and boots on the beach, and the children were splashing around and having fun again, Jarey's outburst forgotten.

Paz looked around, seeing Jaa'lir stripped to underwear and rinsing their flightsuit, and then further along to where Fett was in his underwear too, scrubbing at his boots. It took a long, long moment of disconnect, and then he realised that Fett _wasn't wearing his helmet_. The infamous green-and-red bucket was resting on the beach, beside a pile of grey flightsuit. Shock flooded him. The Tribe didn't show their faces, some not even to their _riduur_ or children, and that Fett would so casually remove his most intimate barrier was deeply disquieting.

Wrestling with the shock, he walked closer, and the bounty hunter looked up, hearing him coming in the knee-high water. Paz couldn't keep his eyes off the man's strangely familiar face - brown skin of a similar shade to his own, cropped black hair faintly brushed with grey at the temples, sharp brown eyes. He had extensive, shiny-smooth scarring across his upper arms, thighs, sides and neck that must have been the acid burns from the Sarlacc. The _beroya_ straightened, throwing his boots onto the beach and stepping to look Paz straight in the visor. 

"You remove your helmet?" Paz asked, and couldn't keep the accusatory tone out of his voice. "Do you even follow the _Resol'nare_?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes," Fett snapped in reply, his face setting hard at Paz's tone. He crossed his arms and tilted his chin up proudly. "I follow the _Resol'nare_ , and I remove my helmet sometimes. Rarely, but what do I have to fear here amongst fellow Mandalorians… who are mostly children." At the last words, the corner of his mouth tilted up ever-so-slightly, and the implied insult prodded at Paz's temper.

"You dishonour your _Manda_ ," Paz growled in reply. How dare he?

Fett's lips stretched into a full-blown smirk. "My _Manda_ is as good as yours, Vizsla. I've not dishonoured my ancestors or broken the _Resol'nare_."

Paz clenched a fist, and the sudden memory of his attack on Din reined his temper in with shame. 

"How could you reveal yourself - after the Purge - after the genocide of our people…?" His voice cracked, remembering, the familiar pain welling up from wherever it had been hiding.

He could feel Jaa'lir and the children staring.

The bounty hunter sighed, and his face grew serious, a touch thoughtful. He uncrossed his arms, and after a moment spoke. 

"It is not the helmet - or lack of - that makes the Mandalorian, Vizsla. The _Manda_ is being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit. My helmet has been removed by others, but I have not lost my _Manda_ because of it. I am _Mando'ad_ because I _choose_ to be. I choose to keep the _Resol'nare_ , I choose to honour my ancestors, I choose to wear _buy'ce_ , _beskar'gam_ , and _aliik_." He reached out, set a hand on Paz's shoulder, and the sudden skin-to-skin contact jolted Paz out of the stunned fugue he'd fallen into at Fett's words.

"Who taught you?" he managed to rasp out. It made sense - and it meshed with what Paz had been taught as a child. Like every other _Mando'ad_ after the Great Purge, he had worn his helmet for safety and secrecy. When had that merged into absolutism? When had it become forbidden to remove it? _Why_?

Fett smiled, but it was small and pained and sad and Paz knew that smile, knew that he was thinking of family lost. "My father Jango, and a number of the _Cuy'val Dar_."

"The _Mand'alor_ ," said Paz, and then, quieter, "The template." At Fett's tiny nod, everything fell into place. Fett was the son of the man who had been the template for the clones of the Grand Army of the Republic, some of whom Paz had seen when he was a child. Boba Fett looked familiar because he was his father's son - and like his millions of brothers, a _clone_. But still Jango Fett's chosen son, and - "Have you claimed the title?"

Shaking his head, Fett sighed, and it was strange to hear it without a vocoder. 

"I'm not worthy of it," he replied, and that raised Paz's estimation of him. Though a man of his skill was as worthy as any warrior, his reputation still attributed some dark deeds to his name, and he was a bounty hunter. No matter how good, a hunter and warrior was not necessarily a leader - as Paz knew from painful experience - let alone the leader of the fractured, demoralised people that the _Mando'ade_ had become. Paz wanted there to be a _Mand'alor_ , wanted that gap in the _Resol'nare_ to be filled, as any Mandalorian did, but he restrained himself, knowing that it was an impulse that would only hurt. "Many would argue that it is your responsibility," he said, and then added, daring to tease a little, "If you claim the title, I'll swear to you barefaced."

Fett swatted his shoulder lightly with a chuckle, "You'll be waiting a long time," then grinned slyly, and his hand snapped up lightning-quick and released Paz's chinstrap, popping the helmet seals. "You should practise."

"Hey!" Paz objected, and then reared back when Fett got a finger under his visor, tilting it up just enough to obscure the HUD but not the visor. " _Shab_!" he got out, and he was lunging away when Fett was abruptly tackled from the side and went down with a massive splash and a look of total surprise.

He surfaced, sputtering, but not before Jaa'lir - because they had tackled him - grabbed his throat and held him just above the water. It was a clear threat of drowning, and Fett stilled in their grip. 

"You _dare_ threaten my _aliit_ , Fett, and I'll kill you!" they snarled.

Paz shoved his helmet back on and stepped forward, snapping out, "Hey! Jaa'lir! Let him go, he's just being a _di'kut_. He doesn't mean it."

The medic looked from one man to the other, clearly both angry and confused, and Fett lifted his hands. Jaa'lir stared down at him, and then nodded stiffly, let go of his throat, and leaned forward, bringing their visor close to Fett's face. 

"I meant it and I _will_ ," Paz heard them hiss, and remembered Iviin's comment about Jaa'lir's fierce protectiveness of the Tribe. Jaa'lir stood, and there was something like respect on Fett's face as they turned away, going over to the children and chivvying them to stop staring and finish washing. Paz felt a flicker of pride at his clanmate earning Fett's respect.

"The only thing a Mandalorian man truly fears is a Mandalorian woman," said Fett quietly, as Paz gave him a hand up. "She's fierce."

"She?" said Paz, annoyed, and then abruptly realised that Fett wasn't being more of an asshole, they hadn't told him. "Jaa'lir's nonbinary, same as Jarey."

Fett shot him a look that very clearly said, _You should have told me that earlier_. " _Kaysh_ , they, ze, xie?" he asked.

"They/them for both of them," Paz replied, and shook his head. "I don't want them angry at me. If you take the clothes, I'll help Jaa'lir sort out the kids." Fett groaned, but splashed over to gather up the piles of clothes, and Paz went to finish helping the children get clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandalorian plumbing is about as fun as any other type of plumbing… a little levity and then straight back to seriousness.
> 
>  _Shavit_ \- An expletive used by the farmers of Pakrik Minor, meaning poo/crap/shit.  
>  _Ne'johaa!_ \- Shut up!  
>  _Buy'ce_ \- Helmet.  
>  _Cuy'val Dar_ \- 'Those who no longer exist'. A group of one hundred training sergeants (seventy-five of whom were Mandalorian) who went to Kamino to train the Grand Army of the Republic. The name stemmed from the fact that they had no contact with the outside galaxy and effectively disappeared for ten (or more) years.  
>  _Shab_ \- Fuck (or fucker).  
>  _Kaysh_ \- They/he/she, Mando'a doesn't do gender.


	11. The Names

Jarey had kept their silence for a while, but by the evening it was eating at them. They prided themself on their honesty, a point which had stood them in good stead amongst the straightforward _Mando'ade_ , and part of that was being honest with themself. They had been too hard on Paz, and probably shouldn't have snapped like that, even if their hormones were making them temperamental. So after dinner, they found where Paz was in one of the smaller common rooms, and apologised for snapping at him.

Unceremoniously, he simply stood and hugged them - that warm, enveloping hug that made Jarey feel so safe - and apologised for not listening. Rather embarrassingly, that set Jarey off into a bout of tears. 

"I'm sorry, I just - my emotions are a mess," they said, slipping their hands up under their visor to wipe away the tears. "Jaa'lir says that it's pregnancy hormones, and I'll be better once the baby comes, but oh, it's such a pain."

"Come on," Paz said, and gently led them over to one of the benches that had cushions on it, borrowed from the _Balac_ . He sat down sideways, back against the wall, and pulled Jarey down so that they were sitting between his legs, back leaned up against his chest. He was wearing his chest and belly plates, though nothing else, so Jarey was leaning back against solid, warmed _beskar_. Paz's arms came up around them, knees bent up, and Jarey was completely surrounded by him, totally enclosed and safe. Paz's arms tucked a little tighter, one hand coming to rest against the swell of Jarey's belly. "Have you thought of names?" he asked, quietly.

"Only a little," Jarey replied. "Before, I always knew that if they were a son, they would be named after Orsic, and if a girl, after his mother." Paz made a discontented growl, and that was enough to make Jarey laugh a little at his indignation. "What are good Mandalorian names?"

"Well," said Paz, in a considering tone, "You could name a girl after your _buir_?"

Jarey laughed again, "She already told me I wasn't to do that." That was quite a funny conversation in retrospect, partly because it had been one of the first real conversations Jarey had had with their _buir_ , and partly because it had really shown them that they were allowed to have opinions and thoughts and feelings, and _express them_. "She said that was taking the easy road."

That earned a chuckle from Paz. "Ah, well. There are many names. As with Kotep, any word that is a good, strong word can be used - 'Ruusaan' for reliable, 'Nasrey' for determined, 'Atin' for tenacious. Or after things - 'Sarad' for flower, 'Jai' for the _jai'galaar_ , 'Morut' for stronghold."

 _Morut_ \- and Jarey remembered the first and only name on their Litany. Marev Orilin of Clan Morut. The man whose armour they would wear, the man who had given them courage in the first battle they had witnessed. "What does 'Marev' mean?"

"Fist. Good name for a boy," Paz replied, and then, following their train of thought, asked, "You will wear Marev's _beskar_ when your _buir_ reforges it?"

Jarey nodded, letting their helmet tilt back a little. "I think it's good, if I have a boy." It felt right - that some part of Marev and his Clan would carry on, after he had given them _beskar_. "I will honour him, as is the Way."

"And a girl?" Paz was gently stroking their belly, the unconscious affectionate movement that he had the habit of. It was calming, almost soporific.

"I don't know. I like 'Jai', but it's not… quite right," said Jarey, feeling very silly. It was a good name, the _jai'galaar_ was fierce and strong and elegant, but it wasn't _right_.

Paz hummed for a moment, and then asked, "What about 'Parjai'? It means 'victory'."

A smile spread across Jarey's face. 

"Yes. Because she would be my victory." They relaxed back, leaning their head back against his shoulder and letting out a happy little sigh as his cheekplate came to rest against the crown of their helmet. "They're good names for a _Mando'ad_."

* * *

The talk of names had Paz thinking. As Jarey drifted off, leaning against him, he sorted through the names, thinking of what he would name his son. He wanted to name him something strong, something quintessentially Mandalorian, something that honoured their traditions - but also something hopeful. No child of his would carry the names of recent leaders of Clan Vizsla - particularly 'Tor' or 'Pre', because however much the House and Clans debated it, their conduct was not fully honourable to his mind.

'Verco' might do, derived as it was from _vercopaanir_ , 'to hope', but it was not a Vizsla name. 'Dral', meaning powerful and bright, both good sentiments, but again, not a Vizsla name.

Perhaps 'Tomel', from _tome_ , together? Or 'Evaar' from newness and youth? Perhaps even 'Naak' for peace. All were good names, the names of peacekeepers of House Vizsla. Evaar Vizsla helped broker the deal with House Rook, and peace between the shattered Clans and Houses was absolutely necessary if they were to rebuild in the wake of the Empire and the Great Purge.

Maybe the name of one of the _Mand'alor'e_ , one of the _Ka'ra_ , one of the uniters and saviours of his people. _Te Solus Mand'alor,_ Mandalore the Uniter, Aga Awaud. _Te Taylir Mand'alor_ , Mandalore the Preserver, Canderous Ordo. _Te Oyu'ba'kar Mand'alor_ , Mandalore the Force-Blessed, Tarre Vizsla.

As soon as he thought of the name, something tugged deep in his chest. It was _right_. Tarre Vizsla was a trailblazer, a pathfinder, a uniter of his people and a good ruler. The first Mandalorian Jedi, maker of the Darksaber, not just a claimant to it.

The name settled, and he breathed. Tarre Vizsla, his son. Though Jarey had been angry and perhaps thoughtless in their declaration, it didn't mean that they weren't right. He needed to say the _gai bal Manda_. He'd felt the pull, the _need_ , the moment that the Foundling - _Tarre_ \- had been placed into his arms.

A movement against his hand startled him for a second before he realised that it was Jarey's baby, moving against his hand, where he had it rested on their belly. They were so close, less than five weeks from their due date, and Jaa'lir had already said that the baby could come without danger from the thirty-seventh week, a bare two weeks from now. Between Tarre and this little one, their Clan - their Tribe - would be blessed with two children, something seldom seen by the _Mando'ade_ in these dark times. It was _hope_.

The _Ka'ra_ had chosen him to care for these children, and he would do this, for duty and honour, but also for the love he now bore for his son… the love he bore for Jarey and would doubtless bear for their child. This small family.

He settled back, settling Jarey more securely, and let himself revel in the feeling of them in his arms, and let himself imagine for just a moment.

* * *

Late the next day, Paz was in the nursery, changing his son after another messy meal. He wrapped the tiny tunic around the baby, singing a quiet tune he remembered from his own childhood. The baby cooed up at him, reaching for his face - his helmet. Suddenly, sickeningly, he realised that his son had never seen his face - and then, that slid into the thought that his son _wasn't_ his son yet. He had decided on a name. He had to speak the _gai bal Manda_ , and he had to do it _now_.

Finishing tying the closures, he picked up the child and held him close against his shoulder with one hand, while he unclipped and pulled off his helmet, putting it down almost-carelessly on the table. Then he lowered the little one, carefully supporting his head, so he could look into the brown eyes, so similar to his own.

The child looked up at him, and he said, " _Su cuy'gar_ ," quietly, and the little face scrunched adorably, clearly confused. What was this new face? What was this not-quite-familiar voice? Paz smiled, and hummed a snip of the tune he'd just been singing. The child's face cleared, and he gave Paz a gummy smile. "Yes, it's me. _Gar buir_ ," he said, and everything faded away except the little life in his arms.

Paz took a deep breath in, and then let it out. Another breath in, and he looked the child in the eyes. 

" _Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad_ , Tarre Vizsla," he said, into the holy hush, and he felt something stir, the _Manda_ and _Ka'ra_ witnessing his declaration and vow.

His son looked up at him, and gave a bubbling giggle, reaching up to pat at his nose. Paz let him, the tiny fingers the first to touch his face in years. Peace filled him, and he let himself _feel_ , the warmth wrapping around them, tying the two of them together. 

" _Ner ad, ner ad'ika_ ," he breathed, and rested his forehead against the baby's for a second. The child giggled again, patting his face and beard, and Paz returned the laugh, gentle, before settling him in his arms and rocking him, just basking in the moment. He had his son - _his son!_ \- and would protect him and raise him with honour, as a true _Mando'ade_. He couldn't wait to see him grow.

Half in a daze, he picked up his helmet and slid it on, resting Tarre against his shoulder, and made his way through the complex, down to the common rooms where everyone was still gathered. In the few days here, it had become custom for the children to eat together in the room beside the kitchen, with the adults taking their food away and returning to socialise and supervise after eating. As he entered, Isett skittered over to him, " _Ori'vod_! Emnellen was saying that I'm not gonna be tall enough to be a Heavy Infantry specialist!"

Paz laughed - this was what he had to look forward to as Tarre grew, and he was truly excited by it. He crouched beside the boy, "You're still growing, Isett. It's not about height, it's about strength - you will need to train very hard."

"See, _Em'ika_ , I _can_ be a Heavy Infantry -" Isett yelled, turning away, and Paz caught his shoulder before he could run back.

 _"Is'ika_ , wait," he said, and as the boy turned back, he said, "I'd like you to meet my son, Tarre Vizsla."

"Oh! Oh, _ori'vod_! You did it!" squeaked out Isett, flapping his hands, and he flung himself incautiously at Paz, who caught him before he could accidentally hurt the baby. He was positively _bouncing_ with joy, and Paz felt his happiness swell.

Jaa'lir was making their way over, saying, "What did you do this time?" in a teasing tone.

Paz just laughed, letting his happiness pour out, and let Isett go run to tell the other children. He stood, straightening to his full height. Jaa'lir was technically one of the leadership of the Tribe due to their position as _Baar'ur_ , so he should do a formal introduction. He shifted Tarre slightly, freeing one hand to tap his _beskar'ta_." _Baar'ur_ Jaa'lir Corvus - _ner vod, ni tenganaa ner ad_ , Tarre Vizsla."

Jaa'lir abruptly straightened, all joking gone from their posture. 

"You're presenting - your _ad_? - you did it!" they got out, and then they too were hugging Paz and laughing. "Took you long enough!"

Two small missiles impacted Paz's legs, Jurir and Pakla shrieking with joy, and then the rest of the children were swarming him and hugging and patting the baby, welcoming him enthusiastically to the Tribe. Surprisingly, Tarre was undisturbed by the noise, cooing and wriggling happily in Paz's firm grip, perhaps feeling the joy and welcome of the children.

Then a hand settled on Paz's shoulder, and he looked over to Jarey. They rested their other hand on Tarre's tiny chest, and the universe stilled for a moment as Tarre looked up, then caught a finger with one flailing hand, gurgling happily and pulling at his catch. 

" _Olarom, ad'ika_ ," Jarey greeted quietly, and Paz found himself leaning down to rest his forehead on their temple, drawn helplessly to them. "You're going to grow up strong."

* * *

Fett disappeared early on the fifth day, when most of the really _messy_ repairs had been done. They had working freshers - the less said about the repair of the grey-water and sewage tanks, the better - bedrooms for each adult, two bunkrooms for the children, a nursery, and the kitchen and infirmary were up and working. Jarey allowed that he'd stayed for the difficult part, and he was keeping his side of the bargain.

The base - which the children had to be actively dissuaded from calling a Covert - settled into a routine quickly. Early-morning exercise in one of the training spaces, firstmeal, Jarey teaching the children their lessons whilst Paz and Jaa'lir cleaned and repaired, midmeal, training on comms and in ship mechanics and maintenance, weapons practise, latemeal, relaxing and sometimes more exercise or tutoring. The children settled in quickly, and Jarey quickly grew comfortable, enough to sleep easily in the unfamiliar bed.

After the first foray down to the lake, the children had been in and out of it daily, clumsily learning to swim under Jaa'lir and Paz's hands-on tutoring. Jarey mostly ended up floating in the pools of the lower terraces, with Kotep alternately paddling around and snoozing on the side. The pools were a little deeper than a bath, pleasantly warm at just above body-heat, and the buoyancy of the minerals took the strain off their hips and lower back. The only problem was they couldn't wear their helmet - it grew too fogged in the humid air. So they were stripped down to their underwear, face bare, when _Slave I_ roared overhead and the children stampeded up the staircase to see the bounty hunter land.

Laboriously - and cursing how much they felt like an unhappy purgill - they levered themself out of the pool and clambered up the stairs, swathed in the towel they had brought with them. Halfway up the stairs, they were met by Pakla, who, with the speed of the young, was already dried and dressed, lekku pulled back under a bandana. She took one of Jarey's hands and helped them up the stairs, chattering happily about what she hoped 'Mr Fett' had brought - most of it, Jarey thought wryly - was probably fairly realistic, given that the girl was apparently excited about electronics and the equipment to upgrade the comms.

In the hangar, _Slave I_ was already shut off, hatch open and ramp down. A few crates were stacked on the ground, the youngest children clambering over them, the not-twins apparently competing to read (yell) the most words off the labels. Jaa'lir and Fett were pushing a pair of big hovercrates up the staircase, the older children carting smaller crates behind them with much dramatic huffing and puffing. Jarey was breathing much the same after the stairs, and planted themself on the edge of the mythosaur platform while Pakla went to join the not-twins in reading practise.

When the adults re-appeared - this time with Paz as well, Tarre in a sling on his back - Fett was clearly startled by Jarey's lack of helmet, but didn't comment. Jarey smiled at him, acknowledging his discretion, and he nodded in polite reply. 

"I've got something for you," the _beroya_ said, addressing Jaa'lir, and then made a considering noise, and turned to Jarey, "And sort of for you," he added.

Jaa'lir's head tilted, and it didn't take much to interpret it as confusion, and Jarey voiced it, "How is it for both of us? Unless -"

Fett turned, and addressed the children who were now bouncing between the crates, "Hey, _vod'ike_ , who can read the label for the flat blue box?"

There was a rush of children over to a somewhat battered, mid-sized blue box that was underneath a larger one, and they began reading the labelling aloud. 

"Chai-ee-wab Am-al-gam-ted Par-mac-tee-cals G-H-Seven Med-cal Droid!" was called out, a flurry of sound that took a moment to clarify, and then the other adults gasped in understanding.

"A medical droid?" Jarey asked, hands settling on their stomach. "For the birth?" Fett nodded, and before he could speak further, he was being enthusiastically hugged by Jaa'lir, who was stuttering out a disjointed string of thanks. He stiffened, and his hands hovered uncertainly for a few moments before he awkwardly patted them on the shoulders. He looked supremely discomforted, and Jarey supposed that a man of his reputation got hugged very rarely - if at all.

"I swear to the _Ka'ra_ ," Jaa'lir was saying, "This could save Jarey's or the baby's life!" Then they seemed to realise that Fett was uncomfortable, and let go, stepping back awkwardly. "Sorry, I just… I've never had access to a medical droid."

"A warrior needs the right weapons," Fett replied, sounding a bit strangled. Then he bowed formally to Jaa'lir, turned, and bowed to Paz, saying, "House Mereel wishes to extend an alliance _\- Tom'yc Aliit_ \- to House Vizsla, and to the Tribe of the Nevarro Covert."

There was a stunned silence for a second, and Jarey realised that something _huge_ had just happened.

* * *

Paz was busy trying to formulate a response, and was very glad of his helmet, because he knew he was slack-jawed and gaping. _Tom'yc Aliit_ \- Allied Clans - had not happened since the Civil War began, since well before the Clone Wars and before his own birth. Back in the time of the Sith Wars, almost all Houses had at least one _Tom'yc_ _Aliit_ in place, but the custom had fallen off. _Narudar_ agreements - the temporary 'enemy of my enemy' alliances of convenience - had continued, but even they had grown rare. After the Great Purge and the Night of a Thousand Tears, any alliance was nonexistent; all Mandalorians had to help each other, just to survive.

That Boba Fett - acknowledged as _Alor_ of House Mereel, by the few who remained - would propose an alliance was shocking. That it was with a nothing Tribe from an Outer Rim planet and a crippled House - nearly wiped out first by Clan Saxon and then the Purge - was even more so.

Jaa'lir stepped forward as Paz tried to get his thoughts in order - they did not even question, but trusted to honour, and Paz admired their _mandokarla_ , to risk so much. 

"As _Baar'ur_ of the Nevarro Covert, I am pleased to accept alliance with House Mereel. _Haat, ijaa, haa’it._ " They reached out to Fett, and their vambraces clacked together in the traditional warrior's handshake as Fett returned the words. Both leaned forward, and the brow-ridges of their helmets tapped together in a quick _kov'nyn_ , sealing the pact. As they let go, Fett turned to Paz, awaiting his answer.

Paz managed to stammer out, "I - I cannot speak for House Vizsla. I am but a warrior and not _Alor_. I _am_ the only remaining of my family line, but as far as I know, I'm not the oldest remaining warrior of my Clan."

Fett nodded, solemn, and replied, " _Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la_. Would you, as a warrior of Clan Vizsla, be willing to consider an alliance?"

That took Paz's breath away. He'd made it clear that there were few - if any - warriors to be gained from this alliance, and yet, Fett was willing to extend the offer. House Mereel had suffered as much as any during the Purge, but the notoriety of its most prominent member, and the fact that he occasionally worked for Vader, meant that they had managed to save a little more.

"There is little that House Mereel gains from an alliance with us," he said, "My Clan is few in number and have few resources."

"But you _are_ a Clan," replied Fett. "The one I am sworn to has agreed that it is of great importance that all the Houses and Clans be united by ties of alliance, family, and marriage, if we are to rebuild now that the Empire is gone."

 _That_ punched out what little breath Paz had remaining. Speaking of rebuilding the Clans and Houses, of rebuilding the _Mando'ade_ as a whole, was the province of the great leaders. Of the _Mand'alor_. But Fett had said that he was not going to claim his father's title, and he had said 'sworn to'. 

"Rebuild? Then - you mean to…?"

"I do not," Fett replied, voice firm with certainty, "But the last true claimant of the Darksaber still lives, and she does. I have answered the call of the _Mand'alor_. Bo-Katan Kryze lives, and she intends for Mandalore to rise again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can assure you that this will remain (mostly) fluff, but uh… politics happened by accident. Also, audience participation time! Boy or girl?
> 
> It's House Mereel, not House Fett, because Jango Fett was adopted by Jaster Mereel and therefore into his House.
> 
> Most of the info on the Mandalores of the past was gained via Wookieepedia and is Legends, and though Tarre Vizsla is Canon, I've made up his title. Evaar Vizsla and their doings are entirely my own.
> 
>  _Jai'galaar_ \- Shriek-hawk, a predatory bird of Mandalore. It is the aliik of Clan Vizsla and symbol of Death Watch, and Jaig Eyes are named after it.  
>  _Oyu'ba'dinui_ \- A made-up word, meaning Force-Blessed, from _oyu'baat_ (universe) and _dinui_ (gift). _Oyu'ba'kar_ , from _oyu'baat_ (universe) and _kar'ta_ (heart), is the Force, and _oyu'ba'ad_ , from _oyu'baat_ (universe) and _ad_ (child) is a Force-Sensitive.  
>  _Gar buir_ \- Your parent (in this case, 'your dad').  
>  _"Ner ad, ner ad'ika."_ \- "My child, my little one." (in this case, 'my son'). Ad'ika uses the _'ika_ diminutive, and is very affectionate address of a child. It and its plural ( _ad'ike_ ) can be used by adults informally/teasingly, as in 'kid/kiddo', or 'lads/girls/guys'.  
>  _Beskar'ta_ \- Iron Heart, the hexagonal plate in the centre of a Mandalorian breastplate.  
>  _"Baar'ur Jaa'lir Corvus - ner vod, ni tenganaa ner ad, Tarre Viszla."_ \- "Medic Jaa'lir Corvus - my sibling, I present my child, Tarre Vizsla." This uses _tenganaar_ , meaning show/display, literally 'open hand', which I think fits as a formal word.  
> Purgill - Space whales (the ones that accidentally(-ish) kidnapped Ezra and Thrawn in Rebels).  
>  _Tom'yc Aliit_ \- Allied Clans  
>  _Narudar_ \- Temporary ally, specifically your enemy's enemy, where both sides know this is an alliance of convenience and not a lasting pact.  
>  _Mandokarla_ \- Having the 'right stuff', showing guts and spirit, the state of being the epitome of Mando virtue.  
>  _Haat, ijaa, haa'it_ \- 'Truth, honour, vision', words used to seal a pact or promise.  
>  _"Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la."_ \- "Not gone, just marching far away." Tribute to a dead loved one or comrade, meaning that they are marching ahead to prepare the way and protect the speaker.


	12. The Birth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it has now been decided that Jarey's kid is… a boy. Thank you for those who voted!  
> For the record - there is a detailed but not graphic description of birth, for those who would be grossed out by it; skip the first section if so.

It started much the same as any other day had at the base that they were still trying not to call a Covert. It was the last week of the four that they had agreed to with Fett, and though Jarey now mostly trusted him, they still were nervous about what would happen going forward, especially with the oncoming birth. They knew, from Jaa'lir's daily checkups with the medical droid (that the children had named _E'tad_ , _Mando'a_ for 'seven'), that the baby had dropped into position and the birth would be happening in the next few days. It had increased their nerves, but simultaneously, it meant that the waiting was nearly over, and Jarey was glad for that.

Jarey had been awoken early by contractions and spent nearly half-an-hour in the fresher, cramping and swearing, so when they finally managed to make their way to the training room where everyone else was, they were cranky and uncomfortable. Their back and hips hurt _so much_ , but it was now too difficult to walk down the slippery stairs to the terraced pools, to get even that temporary relief.

In the largest training room, Paz was taking the children through a new strike sequence, and Jarey smiled at the care he was showing, and the children's intent concentration. Off to one side, Jaa'lir and Fett were sparring in what Jarey could now recognise as the idle manner that was part-teasing, part-flirting, and part actual practise, which made them roll their eyes. The normalcy - what had become normalcy, and that still stunned Jarey a little - calmed the grumpiness a bit, and they settled themself on the stone stands that stretched along one side of the room. Kotep snuggled itself around their feet and went to sleep.

Another two sets of strike sequences, and then Paz set the children to slow sparring, waving Jaa'lir (and thus Fett) over to supervise. He came over to Jarey, kneeling to ask, "Do you want to do your exercises this morning?" It had been a delicate balance between doing them and not, because while Jarey always felt a little better after the gentle stretching routine, their fatigue was bad enough that it often meant they had to nap for a couple of hours afterwards.

Today, Jarey wanted _anything_ to distract from the crankiness and contractions, and Kotep's snoring and drool. 

"Yes," they replied, and Paz helped them to stand and move around the children, then take a firm stance. The first few movements were difficult, but that soon smoothed into the easy, satisfying movement they were used to. Paz gently guided, hands supporting their arms, and Jarey allowed themself to smile behind their helmet, content. Every so often, Jarey had to pause when contractions disrupted their balance, and about halfway through the routine, they felt a trickle of liquid running down the inside of their thighs. For a long second, embarrassment flooded in, and then realisation.

" _Oh_ ," they breathed out, stumbling to a halt. Paz's big hands caught at their hips, preventing a fall, and Jarey leaned forward into his support for a long moment, before looking up. "I think my waters have broken," they said, voice catching and crackling in their vocoder as another round of contractions started.

"Jaa'lir!" Paz yelled across the room, and before Jarey knew it, the medic was beside them, hustling them towards the infirmary, and Paz had been left behind to explain to the children and hold the strill.

The infirmary was clean and bright, the electrochromic windows switched off to allow sunshine in. E'tad buzzed over as Jaa'lir guided Jarey to the examination table, helping them settle. The _baar'ur_ rattled off the situation to the droid, which immediately pulled out his scanner and began running it over Jarey's belly, ignoring the ripples of contractions. "The amniotic sac has ruptured and the child is settled into birthing position," the droid said, and Jaa'lir nodded agreement.

"It looks like it's happening," the medic elaborated. "We'll have to time your contractions, but it seems likely you'll be in full labour in the next few hours."

"You don't _know_?" asked Jarey, worried, and the _baar'ur_ shook their head. 

"No. Biology's unpredictable and babies come when they want to. Labour usually starts within 24 hours of water-breaking, so it's likely soon," they repeated, and set a warm, gloved hand over Jarey's. "You're in the best care we can give you, and thanks to E'tad, I'll know exactly what's happening at all times."

"I am glad to assist in your delivery, Jarey Paraktan!" said the droid, its blue photoreceptors blinking cheerfully. "I have no concerns about complications. Your pregnancy that I have observed has been ideal, and Medic Corvus has taken good care of you prior to my arrival."

"Thanks, E'tad," Jaa'lir replied, sounding amused and mildly sarcastic, and Jarey got the feeling that they were teasing the droid. "I've done my best."

"You are a skilled medic, Medic Corvus, and with further training you would make an excellent doctor," he responded, all sarcasm missed. Jarey giggled, feeling absurdly amused, and then it died in a gasp as another contraction hit, longer and stronger than anything previous.

The next hours were simultaneously endless and a hasty blur. The contractions kept coming, longer and harder, and Jarey panted their way through them. At some point, Paz had arrived, and had helped as Jarey grew unsteady from the pain but still needed to go to the fresher or walk around or support themself on the bed. Jaa'lir had bullied them into a shower, supporting them all the way. The hot water had helped a little with the pain, but it was still strong enough that Jarey barely registered their own nudity, that both of the others had completely stripped down to tunics and shorts. At some point, there was some kind of argument at the entrance - Jaa'lir arguing with Fett? - but it was irrelevant. Jarey was a sweaty, irritated, painful mess and they were busy bringing their child into the galaxy. _Everything_ else was irrelevant.

Jarey was alternately kneeling and on all-fours, the least painful positions, when a blurry thought occurred: they could take off their helmet and be less sweaty. The weight and pressure had quickly become so natural, the HUD so intrinsic to their world, that it had barely occurred to them that it could be removed. They shifted their weight, and eager hands helped them upright. Unclipping the chinstrap, they lifted it off their head, and light and air rushed in, overwhelming but welcome. Jaa'lir was saying something about how much longer it would be, but Jarey didn't care. Paz was at their other side, and shakily, fumblingly, Jarey pressed the helmet into his chest. He caught it, and Jarey instructed, "Take care of this for me. I'll need it back afterwards."

"Of course," he replied, soothing, and he moved away for a moment, then back, stroking his hand through their hair, and Jarey couldn't help leaning into the calming pressure as they followed Jaa'lir and E'tad's instructions. Everything faded but muscle and movement, their body rolling and squeezing, Jaa'lir's plastoid-gloved hands on their thighs and backside, E'tad's calm readouts and directions, Paz's hands gripping theirs and his familiar blue helmet against their forehead, soothing touch and gentle words and his shoulder there to bury their head in and _scream_ when it became too much.

Then the urge to push came, and everything began to move faster. E'tad applied a painkiller shot to Jarey's spine, and the pain of the contractions faded, to be replaced by _pressure_ and _push_ as the birth began to approach.

An indeterminate time later, there was a rush of activity as the baby's head crowned and then the last push and they slid out of Jarey's body. Paz helped Jarey rest back on the pillows as Jaa'lir and E'tad bustled around. Injections were administered and the placenta delivered, blood and fluids cleaned up, the baby weighed and scanned and cleaned. And then the baby was resting on their chest, tiny and red and swathed in a soft towel. There was a beep of completed scans, and E'tad said, "Jarey Paraktan, both you and your son are in good health." The droid sounded pleased as he continued, "He weighs 3.34 kilograms and is 50.2 centimetres long, below the Human/Near-Human averages but well within healthy parameters. Scans show no postpartum complications for either of you."

The baby flailed a little, making unhappy noises, tiny hands seeking… something… and Jarey realised blurrily that they wanted to feed. Carefully, they guided the seeking hands and mouth to a swollen nipple, and the baby latched on. It was an incredibly odd feeling, but satisfying. After a bare couple of minutes, the baby let go and settled, snuggling into the space between their breasts, and let out a content little sigh. Jarey stared down at the little head covered in a bare dusting of dark fluff, the perfect little fingers and fingernails, the scrunched little face, and everything intensified - happiness, pride, satisfaction. This was their child, their responsibility and joy and hope. They were a parent, a _buir_ , and they would give everything to protect and raise this child safe and secure and happy.

Jaa'lir carefully guided Jarey through burping the baby, and the correct way to hold him. Jarey was infinitely glad of the no-nonsense instructions, their clanmate's warm voice. The medic completed their instructions by tucking a little cap over the baby's head and wrapping a shawl around Jarey's shoulders to support their arms, and then asked, "What's his name?"

Jarey smiled, and glanced over to where Paz sat, remembering their conversation. 

"His name - his name is Marev," they said, feeling all the emotions fill them and spill out into tears of overwhelmed joy.

"Marev," Paz breathed in response. A helpless smile spread Jarey's lips, and they cuddled Marev close, feeling the tiny breaths against their neck. This was everything that they wanted, needed for their child. With a happy sigh, they relaxed back into the pillow, settling their arms more securely around Marev. It was done.

* * *

Paz watched as Jarey drifted into sleep, the baby - Jarey's son - resting, so tiny, against their chest. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. The child was so perfect - a fluff of dark hair, and pale skin with a hint of Jarey's gold. Tarre was his heir and his pride, but he knew that he would love this little one just as much. Marev would be brought up free and strong, in the _Resol'nare_.

He glanced over at Jarey's helmet, still sitting unworn, and then back to their face, framed by their black hair fanned out on the pillow. It had been weeks since they had put on the helmet and begun their _Ca'nara be'Ganaade_ , and it was a fresh revelation and intimacy to see the features that had been obscured by the faceplate. He wondered - actually let himself wonder, for once - what they would think of his own face.

" _Ka'ra_ , Paz," said Jaa'lir, tucking another blanket around the sleeping pair. "You couldn’t be more obvious if you tried."

Paz shot a look over at the medic, then looked back to Jarey's peaceful face. He sighed with all the hopeless love he carried. "I know. But they don't need that. They're adapting to the ways of the _Mando'ade_ , and were badly abused. I'm not going to take advantage or pressure them, or put them in a position that they could be uncomfortable - or, stars, _hurt_."

Jaa'lir shook their head, gently adjusting the baby so that he was more secure on Jarey's chest. "I don't think you'd be taking advantage, or making them uncomfortable. They endured a lot, but I don't think they broke in that way. But if you plan to, courting them slowly is the right choice, the honourable choice."

" _Always_ ," Paz replied. "For Jarey and my children - I would not dishonour them." The medic huffed out a quiet laugh, and he realised that he'd referred to Marev as his. It felt right, and even though he knew that he might not be able to say the words for years, he knew that he would protect and teach him as his own.

The _baar'ur_ shook their head, "It's not going to be easy," they said, and Paz nodded.

"I know," he said, quiet, letting his sincerity fill his voice as he stared over at the sleeping pair. "But they - _both_ of them - are worth it."

Jaa'lir shook their head. "It's a good thing that there are heartless bastards like Fett around, it balances out softies like you," they said, and the smirk was clear in their voice. Paz tilted his head in a glare, which just got him a chuckle. "Speaking of him, I need to finish that argument. E'tad, can you please watch over Jarey and the little one for the next little while? Comm me if you need me."

"Of course, Medic Corvus!" chirped the droid, buzzing forward to hover by the head of Jarey's bed. "I will send a message if any problems occur."

"Thank you," Jaa'lir said, and then seized Paz's arm and hoisted him to his feet. "And I need you to come along and look after the children while I put Fett in his place."

* * *

Jarey woke to unhappy mumbles and little hands patting at their breasts. Muzzily, they shifted, and supported the baby's head as they rooted for the nipple and then latched on. They sighed quietly at the sensation, smiling wide, and gently ran their hand over the little face, caressing the soft skin. Marev shifted and gave a content little sound as he suckled.

They heard the hum of the approaching droid before he spoke. 

"Are you comfortable, Jarey Paraktan? There have been no changes to your child's condition, or yours. She is eating well."

"I'm comfortable, thank you," Jarey said, smiling over at the droid. They couldn't seem to stop it. "Thank you for your help. You can call me Jarey, you know."

"You are most welcome, Jarey Paraktan - Jarey," replied the droid, tilting over to give an odd little nod-bow. They sat in silence for a little longer until Marev had finished eating and was burped, and Jarey was just staring down at their son, searching the unfocused dark eyes, the rosebud lips that fluttered as Marev gurgled and waved his tiny hands.

A little commotion at the entrance - childish voices raised in question - and Jarey looked up as Jaa'lir entered the infirmary, laughing quietly. They came over to Jarey's bed. "You've got visitors, if you're up for it. The children would like to meet their new _vod'ika_."

Jarey smiled, remembering the children's excitement and the ongoing, endless curiosity in their new sibling. 

"As long as they keep quiet-ish and don't disturb Marev too much." The medic nodded, and soon the children were led in, obviously doing their best to be quiet, and soon there were six children clustered around Jarey's bed, staring at the baby. "This is my son, Marev, your new _vod'ika_." Jarey said, settling Marev so he was sitting a bit more upright against their chest.

"He's so _small_!" blurted out Pakla, and then gasped as Marev gurgled, apparently in response. " _Oh_!"

"You were that small once," Jarey replied, giving Marev a finger to try to grab. "He'll grow up big and strong like you all."

"Like Tarre? He'll get bigger like Tarre is?" asked Isett, as Vashka leaned forward to look more closely. Jarey nodded, and the boy grinned. "He'll be big soon and we can play with him!"

That got a chuckle out of the adults. "He'll be a bit boring for a while, _ad'ika_ ," Jaa'lir said, "He'll mostly eat and sleep for the first couple of months."

"And cry," put in Paz as he entered the infirmary, Tarre in a sling on his unarmoured chest. "Don't forget the crying." Fett followed him, stiff and a little awkward, and got what was clearly a glare from Jaa'lir.

"Oh," Vashka replied, "Is he going to be as noisy as Tarre?"

"Oh, probably even more," Jarey said jokingly, and as they spoke, Marev began to make little hiccupping grizzles. In his sling, Tarre began to respond, making unhappy mumbles. A quiet reassurance from Paz, and Tarre settled. "Definitely," Jarey said with a rueful sigh, and rocked their son gently, making soothing noises until he calmed.

Shyly, Kirren leaned over, reaching out to hover a hand over Marev's head. "Could I… could I hold him, _ori'vod_?" he asked, tentative and awed.

"Yes," Jarey replied, smiling at Kirren's happy gasp, "Come sit up next to me." The boy clambered up quickly, settling next to Jarey, and they instructed him carefully on how to hold the baby, supporting his head. He nodded enthusiastically, his visor fixed on Marev's face, and as the baby was settled in his arms, Kirren held him close and tight, rocking him gently. Jarey smiled at the contrast of Marev's milky skin with Kirren's dark, happy that their son would have so many _vode_. Marev made a burbling noise and flailed at Kirren, and he caught the hand, bouncing it, which got him a happy noise. He gave a delighted giggle, and Jarey almost burst with the pure pride in her _vod'ike_ , the children of her _aliit_. Emnellen climbed up and asked to hold Marev next, and Pakla after that, but Jurir just snuggled against Jarey's thighs and fell asleep.

Perhaps less worried by Tarre, Isett and Vashka asked if they could instead hold him. Paz carefully set his son down on the next bed over, the two boys either side of the baby, taking turns to rock him. After a little while, Tarre began to grizzle again, and this time, he wouldn't be dissuaded by his father's voice and hand. "He probably needs feeding," Paz said with a sigh, doing the customary quick pat-down of Tarre's wrap and finding it dry.

"Hand him here, I'll feed him," Jarey said, without thinking, and then slammed their mouth shut, feeling their face go bright red as the adults stared. The children had thankfully completely missed any implications, absorbed as they were by the two babies.

Jaa'lir came to the rescue. "That's actually a really good idea," they said, tone analytical, resting a hand against the chin of their helmet in a considering manner. "E'tad, it would be good for him, wouldn't it?"

The droid tilted his head and replied, "Colostrum in Human females is highly nutrient-dense and contains a high amount of antibodies and growth factors. It would be beneficial to Tarre to consume it. Jarey's milk will come in faster the more they feed babies."

Jarey could feel their face was still hot, but they pushed through the embarrassment, "Here, pass him over," they said, and reached over towards where Vashka was holding Tarre. Jaa'lir carefully transferred him to Jarey's arms, and they marvelled for a second at how much more he weighed than newborn Marev. How soon would their little one be this size? They tried not to feel self-conscious as they settled Tarre and helped him latch, knowing that the children were watching curiously and the adults were trying not to. "There you are, _ad'ika_ ," they said as he began to suckle, making little grunting sounds as he did so.

At the sounds, Marev began to mumble unhappily. Without looking at Jarey, Paz scooped him out of Pakla's arms and rested him up against his chest, head tucked into the hollow of his neck, gently swaying. "Hello, _ad'ika_ ," he said, quietly, "You can go next, but Tarre is eating right now. _Kaysh eparavu jii_." His warmth and the quiet rumble of his voice seemed to soothe Marev.

Fett cautiously peered around his shoulder, one gloved hand reaching out and carefully touching Marev's little cheek, cupping the tiny head. The baby made a content noise and burrowed in, and he startled and snatched his hand away. Jaa'lir made an annoyed noise, and Fett put his hands behind his back and stepped away in the studied manner of a tooka that was pretending it had meant to do that, _really_. Jarey managed not to giggle, but they couldn't help a smirk. It was odd, but in the last few weeks, he had become part of the group, almost part of the Tribe. At the very least, he had brought alliances and a new kind of safety and purpose.

Between Marev and Tarre, and the alliances that would form, their aliit was growing, and so would the _Mando'ade_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcanon that Mandalorians (Fett in particular) are pretty much cats, what with the stubbornness, head-butts to show affection, and situational assholery. I have no idea what the fuck the argument was about but I KNOW there was one and the idea of Jaa'lir shouting down Boba Fett was too funny not to include.  
> For the record, Paz has the BIGGEST hearteyes for most of this chapter.  
> Also, I have added another work to the series - it is the Archive, containing supplemental information, including maps.
> 
>  _E'tad_ \- Seven.  
>  _"Kaysh eparavu jii."_ \- They/he/she is eating now (in this case, he). Mando'a doesn't do gender.  
> Tooka - Also known as tooka-cats, the Star Wars equivalent of the domestic cat. The loth-cats from Rebels are a sub-species.


	13. The Faces

The following days were a blur of sleep and sleeplessness, early-morning and late-night feedings, and more time in the nursery than Jarey had expected. They had taken to sleeping on the adult-sized bed left there (which was now Kotep's default nest), reassured that they would hear if Marev woke up, no matter how tired they were.

They had no problems with the physical side of things, changing Marev or feeding him, having practised with Tarre - but it was different, as a _parent_ , as the person solely responsible for the new life. The sheer protectiveness and pride and love that flooded them every time they looked at Marev was overwhelming, and there were tears more often than there had been before the birth. It wasn't helped by sudden spikes of helplessness, as Jarey learned and realised just how fragile and vulnerable their son was to _everything_.

The constant presence of Paz and Jaa'lir, the support both spoken and unspoken, had become a pillar of strength on which they could sometimes lean, if it became too much. The younger children and Kotep were always demanding cuddles and attention, and were a constant supply of unconditional love and positivity, and the willingness of the older children to watch the babies if Jarey needed to eat or use the fresher was both welcome and adorable. E'tad's cheerful information and constant scans were a touchstone, and even Fett's often-surly presence, lurking mostly in the comms centre and giving reports on local activity, was reassuring. Now - even more than their first days in the Nevarro Covert - Jarey understood what it was to be part of a family, an _aliit_.

As everyone adjusted to having two babies instead of one - not all that great a change, once the initial hurdles had been passed - everything began to settle, and then Fett asked the adults to meet with him in private.

* * *

Carefully closing the door to the conference/war room, Paz looked around. Fett was fiddling with the holoprojector, and Jarey and Jaa'lir were seated by the table. Jaa'lir was gently teasing Jarey, like the siblings that they more-or-less were by now; the unexpected shocks of the umbilical cord dropping off suddenly and Marev's first few bowel movements being truly horrifying colours would probably be fodder for mockery for years to come. As he entered, Fett moved over to the table, pulling out a chair for Paz. Paz frowned beneath his helmet as he sat; Fett had been more polite since the agreement of _Tom'yc Aliit_ , but this went straight into formality.

There was a tense silence for a moment, and then Paz broke it. "So - what did you want to discuss, Fett?"

"The relocation of your Covert here," came the blunt answer, "And the establishment of it as a base for the _Mando'ade Cuyane_." That brought everyone forward in their seats in surprise.

Jaa'lir was the first to respond, voice sharp. "I thought that this was a hideout base, that you kept knowledge of it to very few for security."

Fett nodded, and his voice was mild as he explained. "Yes. In light of the destruction of not only the Nevarro Covert, but further destruction on _Manda'yaim_ by the Imperial Remnant, the _Mand'alor_ has decided that we must regroup and strengthen ourselves, before we come back together. Part of that is a series of self-supporting, secure bases and locations that we can come and go from freely."

There was a long silence as they all digested that, and Paz's brain was working overtime. The surviving Mandalorians had mostly been in individual Coverts that had no contact with each other, and their secrecy had mostly rested on hiding in places where nobody asked questions, or there were too many people to track them. This was a complete change in strategy - actively promoting a network of support, of hiding as a temporary strategy rather than the way of life it had been for the last decades. It was bringing the _Mando'ade_ back together, preserving knowledge and people. But there would be problems with this, and if they didn't do it right, people would suffer. Paz found his voice, demanding, "And what of hunting? Credits and supplies? _Food_?"

"Food - I said self-supporting," Fett replied, and his tone grew a little terser as he replied. "You've noticed the gardens," - he waved vaguely northwards - "I've spoken with an expert in farming. They've said that planted properly, the gardens should produce enough to feed a Covert easily, with surplus. There's enough land to feed nerfs, and nuna are easy to keep."

"We can't… _farm_ ," blurted Paz, simultaneously horrified and confused, not bothering to disguise that he was staring at Fett. "We don't know how."

"There are _Mando'ade_ that are farmers," Fett snapped, and he was clearly glaring at Paz. "My name alone should tell you that."

"What?" Jarey interrupted, confusion in their tone. Sometimes, Paz forgot that they were still learning _Mando'a_. "Your name?"

It broke the tension between the two men, and Fett turned to Jarey to explain. "My family name is Fett. It's from the word _vhett_ , farmer. My father grew up on a farm on Concord Dawn, before he was adopted by Jaster Mereel."

Jarey nodded, and looked across at him. "So your family were _Mando'ade_ , and farmers. I guess someone has to feed the warriors," they said, in a considering tone, and Paz smiled in approval at their quick mind. "Is that the same with other trades, like… mechanics, craftspeople, merchants?"

Fett chuckled, clearly pleased that someone was paying attention. "Oh yes. _Mando'ade_ are warriors, but not all are _purely_ warriors. Only the _ori'ramikade_ were full-time warriors. I've tried my hand at farming, it's not as hard as you think." His voice clearly indicated that he was smirking. Paz rocked back in his seat. Boba Fett had been a _farmer_? The most infamous of Mandalore's _beroyase_ , getting his hands literally dirty? He thought back to their fixing the waste tanks, at Fett's clear experience with getting dirty and working with his hands. Paz had at the time thought it was down to his experiences hunting difficult bounties, but apparently it was part of a much _earthier_ skillset. "I had to do something when I wasn't on hunts," added Fett, clearly snarking specifically at Paz.

"And as long as we're careful, coming and going from here - and the other Coverts - won't be any more dangerous than it was," Jaa'lir put in, musing, and Paz realised that they were right. "So hunting will continue, and supplies will be the same. Just different bases, and different rules for contact."

Fett nodded, and sounded a little relieved that he hadn't had to explain. "Exactly. And that contact change is part of why we need to upgrade the comms here," he added. "Better security and further transmission."

"Makes sense," Jaa'lir nodded. "Well, I'm happy to accept the offer, and the responsibility. _Tom'yc Aliit_." Once again, Paz was impressed by Jaa'lir's _mandokarla_ \- they trusted their ally, and handled things with honour and forthrightness. Jarey nodded their assent as well, and Paz echoed it. "Is there anything else we need to know about this base?"

"The _Cuyane_ are not only _Mando'ade_ ," Fett said, and Paz didn't know what to make of that. "And there will be many different _Mando'ade_ , as well. Not all are as - restrictive - with their helmets as your _aliit_. You'll need to be understanding of that."

Paz shifted uncomfortably. He'd seen Fett's face, and the concept still worried him a little. He wasn't yet comfortable with the concept of leaving helmets off, but he remembered Mandalore, remembered people with their faces bare in the streets. Amongst _aliit_ , he could understand and maybe even do so, but it was a long habit and he didn't think he would break it much, even if he was safe - even if his _Manda_ was safe.

"You believe that there is no dishonour in being barefaced amongst _Mando'ade_ ," said Jaa'lir, and there was something fierce and determined in their tone. Paz straightened up; something was going on in their medic's head.

"No. It is a sign of trust," Fett replied, absolute sincerity in his tone, and smoothly and seemingly without thought, reached up and slid off his helmet, setting it on the table. His eyes were serious and genuine as he looked around the table, meeting each visor unflinchingly. Paz nodded as the man's gaze met his visor - Fett was _mandokarla_ too, bold and unafraid to stand up for his beliefs.

For a long minute, there was silence, and then Jaa'lir nodded, apparently having decided something.

They reached up, unclipped their chinstrap, and slid off their helmet, setting the teal-green _beskar_ gently down on the table. Paz couldn't help it, he gasped as their face was revealed and they looked around the table, at each person in turn. Oval face with pale skin, mousey-brown hair braided up in a crown, and defiant green eyes. Their jaw was set and they lifted their chin with all the dignity and decisiveness of a monarch. "I have thought about this much since the day at the lake," they declared, "And I have decided that there is no shame or dishonour in being barefaced before _aliit_. My _Manda_ is not stained by trust."

Paz knew he was gaping, speechless and disbelieving. This was momentous, their _Baar'ur_ deciding to bare their face.

Even Fett looked taken aback, but there was nothing but respect in his eyes. "I'm not your _aliit_ ," he said, quiet and almost awed.

"I have sworn _Tomy'c Aliit_ ," Jaa'lir replied, and there was a slight shake to their voice, as if they were only now realising the gravity of their declaration and action. They looked back to Fett, and Paz could only watch in amazement as they stood and stepped towards Fett, hand extended. "I have given my trust."

The _beroya_ stood, meeting Jaa'lir's wrist in the traditional warrior's clasp, their vambraces clacking together, and they leaned forward, foreheads meeting in a tentative _kov'nyn_. They stayed there for a breathless minute, and then they straightened, and Jaa'lir was the first to smile. Fett's face broke into a wide grin, and he leaned down to meet Jaa'lir's forehead again, a little harder this time. The medic rocked back a little, and Paz heard the sheer relief as they broke into laughter, and then pulled Fett into a hug. It was still awkward, but Fett seemed to tolerate it a lot better this time.

It was _trust_ , and it was _hope_. If the _Mando'ade_ trusted each other, perhaps…

Perhaps, as the _Mand'alor_ believed - and Paz was now fully willing to recognise her as the _Mand'alor_ \- Mandalore could rise again, and this time better.

A surge of certainty swept through him, and he reached for his chinstrap.

* * *

Jarey was busy watching the interaction between Jaa'lir and Fett, caught between disbelief and understanding and hope, so they were caught by surprise when there was a heavy thunk on the table. They whipped their head around, and Paz's helmet was sitting there on the table.

They looked up, to his _face_. His _bared face_.

Warm brown skin, strong cheekbones and jaw, framed by wavy dark hair. A neat goatee around a generous mouth. Wide nose and sharp eyebrows, one with a scar cutting through it. And his eyes - the same intense amber-brown as Fett's - bright and determined and direct.

Jarey's jaw dropped, recognition warring with concern. As much as Jaa'lir's choice was a bold statement and pivotal decison, so was Paz's. _I had wondered if he was attractive under the helmet_ , was their first half-hysterical thought, face heating, because he _was_. It was quickly followed by the realisation that now they knew what he looked like and didn't have to guess. And the third was that he had shown his face, so they should too. They fumbled for a second with their chinstrap and then their helmet was on the table and they were standing, stepping over to where Paz still sat.

He looked up at them, their eyes meeting square for the first time without visors between, and Jarey could feel their hand trembling as they reached out. Paz took their hand between his own and stood, and Jarey could feel the shudder of his hands around theirs. There was fear and uncertainty in his gaze, but it was only around the edges of determination and sincerity and conviction. Slowly, he leaned down, and Jarey met his forehead with their own, his skin warm against their own and their breaths mingling for an endless, beautiful moment. Something blossomed into being between them, and the smile grew on Jarey's face unbidden, and they could see a similar grin spreading across Paz's face. They pulled back, and Jarey couldn't help it - they dived straight into a hug. Paz caught them, laughing, and his arms were just as secure as ever, the warmth of his chest the same, but the puff of his breath in their hair was a new sensation and Jarey could feel their heart swelling with delight.

Jaa'lir was whooping with joy as they cannoned into the hug, and firmly bopped their forehead against Jarey's and then Paz's. "Ow, Jaa'lir," Jarey laughed, "You have a hard head!"

"Not as hard as this idiot's," Jaa'lir grinned - and Jarey could _see their grin_ , not just hear it - as they slapped Paz's chest. He protested, still chuckling, and then let go. He stepped around the two enbys and reach out a hand to Fett, who was resting a hip on the table and laughing - not the smirky snicker or quiet chuckle, but honest, full-throated laughter. Fett caught his wrist, and clapped his other hand to Paz's shoulder.

"Good to see your Clan's tendency to make impulsive decisions is working out for you, Vizsla," the bounty hunter teased, completely heatless.

Paz cracked up again, and brought his forehead against Fett's in a quick _kov'nyn_. "Not Vizsla. Paz," he said. "My _aliit_ and _vode_ call me Paz."

For a moment Fett's face lost the grin, something complicated and full of loss flickering across it, and then it returned full-force, warmer than before. "Then call me Boba, _vod_ ," he said, and turned towards the other two, hand still clasped around Paz's vambrace. "That goes for you, too."

Jarey smiled, and something stirred in their gut as they stepped forward, catching Fett's - Boba's - shoulder and tapping their forehead against his. " _Ori'vor'e, vod_ ," they said, and couldn't keep the happiness out of their voice.

" _N'entye_ ," replied Boba, and his brown eyes were unexpectedly warm as he met Jarey's. "There is no debt between _tomade_ … or _aliit_."

* * *

When they finally sat down again, Paz shuffled his chair closer to Jarey's, remembering the wonder and disbelief in their expression as they stared at his face, and the bright blush. The electric flicker as he took their hand. Feeling their breath on his neck as he held them close. The temptation to dip his head and rest his forehead against theirs, hold them close forever. He risked a look over, and found them looking back. He flicked his gaze away, feeling warmth creep up his neck at being caught. Awkwardly, he coughed. "So, relocating the Covert here?"

"The rest of the Covert should be gathered at the Vergesso location by now," Jaa'lir said, a smirk in the corner of their mouth despite their calm tone, and he tallied it with their body language. That head-tilt was slightly mocking, but the smirk confirmed and amplified it, clearly saying that they were amused at his discomfort. It was strange to see a facial expression along with the familiar head-tilt, but it was an additional piece of information. He could see why _aruetii_ might fail to discern their body language if they were so dependent on facial expressions. "I know the comm-code for one of the terminals there. I can send an encrypted short-burst to them with a message."

"No coordinates," Boba put in, quickly. "Too easily decrypted. If you're in with the _Cuyane_ , security's the first step."

The medic nodded slowly, and Paz grimaced - Boba was right. "Good point. Perhaps just something saying we're safe, we'll be there in - how long will it take to get to Vergesso? Seven days?" At the nods of agreement from Jaa'lir and the bounty hunter, Paz added, "That way they won't leave before we get there."

Everyone was nodding in agreement when Jarey spoke up. "If Boba doesn't mind me staying here with the children, I think that's best." They looked worried, more than anything, and that was borne out when they added, "I'm still not recovered, and I'm not a fighter. I'd be a liability." Paz couldn't stop his mouth flattening in an unimpressed line - Jarey had done their best during their pregnancy, but in anything other than the most peaceful situation, they would be both a risk and a complication. They had shrunk in their chair, gaze dipped, awkward and ashamed. He reached towards them instinctively to comfort them, and then pulled his hand back. It wasn't his place.

"Sensible. I don't mind," Boba replied. "Better for you and them to be safe."

"Foundlings are the future," added Jaa'lir, wry, and the twist of their mouth was worried as well. "Keeping them here is the best way to ensure they're safe."

"Travel time alone, we'll be away for two weeks," Boba put in, and Paz snapped around towards the bounty hunter. He was planning on coming? He wasn't even part of the Covert! _Maybe he was still planning on taking advantage_ , came the thought, and Paz squished it with prejudice. Boba had been nothing but honourable, and had sworn alliance with the Tribe. Going into a difficult situation with additional warrior, especially one as good as Boba, would be a huge asset.

"You're coming with us?" he managed to get out. "But - surely you have better things to do?"

Boba shook his head, mouth quirking up. "Not until I am to meet the _Mand'alor_ , and I would like to meet your _Alor_ in person." Paz was nodding agreement, and then the _beroya_ dropped the other half of his statement. "But you should stay, Paz."

Paz felt his jaw drop, and he looked over to Jarey, whose face was a picture of disbelief to match his own, and then to Jaa'lir, whose surprise was fading quickly into calculation. "Good idea," the medic agreed. "While I'd like to take E'tad, we need medical knowledge in both locations, and we should take one ship."

Boba was nodding in agreement. "I'll leave _Slave I_ here, give Paz the codes in case. The _Balac_ has a surgical suite?"

"Yeah. It has more carrying capacity, too, in case we need to get people offworld quickly," the medic agreed. "We should pick up additional supplies, as well."

The bounty hunter had brought up a page on his datapad and was beginning to jot down notes. "Food, and crop supplies if you know any sources."

"We'll need equipment too," Jaa'lir shuffled their chair over, and started prodding at the datapad too. "Kitchen and infirmary shouldn't be a problem, assuming that the Covert's kitchen equipment wasn't somehow lost. Farming equipment. I wonder where you get animals."

"Definitely taking the _Balac_ ," Boba grinned, to Jaa'lir's eyeroll. Paz felt like he'd been run over by a speeder, with how quickly this conversation was progressing. He shot a look over at Jarey, and found their face equally bewildered.

"Wait," Jarey managed to get in, "Why not take Paz as well?"

They received identical _you should know this_ looks from the medic and _beroya_ , and shrunk slightly. Again, Paz felt the impulse to stretch out and hold their hand and comfort them, but tamped it down; it would be overstepping his boundaries. Jaa'lir replied, "Having a warrior here to protect you and the children is a good precaution. It's a matter of splitting for least risk in both locations."

Paz sighed. It was logical, and though he wanted to go and retrieve his Tribe, by staying here, he was also protecting the future of his Tribe. _Ara'nov_ \- it was the Way. He looked across to Jarey, and they met his gaze. The worry there stripped out any remaining objections - _Jarey_ needed to be protected too.

That afternoon, a heavily-encrypted transmission went out, the _Balac_ following less than an hour later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some slight bombshells here... :P
> 
>  _Mando'ade Cuyane_ \- Mandalorian Survivors.  
>  _Manda'yaim_ \- Mandalore, literally 'home of the Manda'.  
> Nuna - The Star Wars equivalent of the chicken. They have bald green skin, but can grow red or blue feathers.  
>  _Ori'ramikade_ \- Supercommandos, the Mandalorian elite special forces. Initially developed by Jaster Mereel, following the Supercommando Codex, but later the Death Watch, Maul's Mandalorians, and the Empire used similar units. _Ori'ramikad_ is the singular form.  
>  _Ori'vor'e_ \- Thanks a lot/thank you very much.  
>  _N'entye_ \- No debt, in response to _vor entye_ , which is literally 'I accept a debt (to you)'.  
>  _Tomade_ \- Allies.


	14. The Tears

Early-morning exercise usually occurred in the space between the babies' first feed of the day and firstmeal. Jarey had grown used to it, but when Paz looked them over unusually intensely and then said, "Right. _Proper_ training," they knew that they were going to hate mornings from now on.

Paz was a patient teacher, and good at explaining, as Jarey had observed with his training of the children, but he was uncompromising and pushed _hard_. The smooth, open-handed, almost dancelike movements of the stretching routine gave way to the basics of combat form movement - learning to fall correctly, rolls and footwork, blocking and deflecting. By the end of the session, Jarey was soaked in sweat and shaking all over, and knew that they would be stiff in the evening, even though the glow of endorphins was enough to balance it for the time being. Paz's tone was satisfied as he said, "It's a good start. Keep it up and you'll be sparring in no time." He hooked an arm around their shoulders and hauled them in for a side-hug.

Jarey snuggled in, snaking an arm around his waist, unable to help themself. He was just so comfortable against them, and they fit so perfectly under his arm, guarded by his bulk and height. Even more than they had done during the stretching routine, they'd had to fight distraction at the shift of his muscles as he guided their movements. The faint, smoke-and-citrus scent of his soap mixed with clean sweat, stoked the warmth in their belly further.

" _Ori'vod_ , does that mean that Jarey's going to be a warrior too?" Kirren was asking, "Now that they've had Marev?"

"For now they're learning the same things you've learned," Paz replied, and curled his arm up to teasingly knock on Jarey's helmet. "But ask Jarey what their plan is, it's their training."

Jarey sighed as the little visor swung towards them, "I don't know," they replied, with complete honesty. "I want to be able to defend myself, to fight for the _aliit_ , but I don't know what my place will be in the Covert."

The boy stepped forward and reached up to pat them on the shoulder, saying consolingly, "It's okay, I didn't know that I wanted to be a medic until this year, and you're new to the Covert."

"Thank you, Kirren," Jarey replied, fighting back a smile at his seriousness. "I'm sure I'll find it soon." The boy nodded decisively, and then scooted off towards where Pakla and the not-twins were wrestling over who would get to carry the babies' baskets to the dining room, as well as who would have to retrieve them from Kotep's drooling guard.

"C'mon, let's break this up and then we'll do breakfast," said Paz, and Jarey sighed and let him steer them towards the knot of children. His arm was still heavy across their shoulders, and Jarey had no desire to shrug it off.

* * *

Herding six children and a strill was a challenge as always, though food was a good motivator to good behaviour. Paz supervised the washing of hands and faces and cleaned up Kotep's drool trail, while Jarey heated the grain that had been soaking overnight and chopped ration bar and dried fruit to stir in. He didn't think anything of it when Jarey brought their bowl to the table with the children's, thinking that perhaps they meant to eat later - but then they scooped up Marev to feed, pulled their helmet off and began eating one-handed. The children quieted a little, faces showing surprise at this change in pattern, and then, when Jarey neither drew attention to it or commented on it, carried on as usual, alternately scoffing down food or talking.

As he looked over to where Jarey was cleaning a spill off Vashka's tunic one-handed, Marev still at their breast, and telling Pakla to stop talking with their mouth full because they were spitting everywhere, he mused that the former refugee was now definitely part of the Tribe. They were comfortable now, confident with the children, with Jaa'lir and himself, and to a lesser extent, Fett. Whether that would last when the rest of the Covert arrived, most importantly their _buir_ , was the question.

For a little while, Paz was busy helping Jurir eat her food, keeping her from getting too distracted by Kotep (who had been fed but was pretending it hadn't). She considered him her _ori'vod_ , which was simultaneously helpful, because she paid attention, but also not, because she wanted to tell him _everything_ about the dream she had last night, the weird stain on her wall, how excited she was about potential nunas, and also that she could write her whole name now.

Emnellen had finished, and was helping Isett and Vashka to clear away the dishes. Jarey was trying to get Tarre to re-latch to finish his feeding, and distractedly said, " _Vor'e, Em'ika_."

" _Ba'gedet'ye, ba'vodu_ ," the girl replied absently, and then froze, turning towards Jarey with a stricken look on her face. "I - I'm sorry, I didn't mean -" she began to stammer out.

"It's okay," Jarey replied quickly, with a gentle smile. "I'm honoured that you would consider me a _ba'vodu_."

Emnellen sniffled, dropping their bowls on the table, and suddenly she was around the table and flinging herself at Jarey, tears streaming. The startled adult caught her with one arm before she could upset Tarre, and then the girl was sobbing her heart out into Jarey's shoulder. Jarey threw a _help!_ look over at Paz, who deposited Jurir on the bench beside him and moved to carefully ease Tarre out of Jarey's arms. They nodded to him, mouthing a 'thank you' as they wrapped Emnellen in a more secure hug. "There, there, _ad'ika_. It's okay. You're okay."

"But it's not okay!" the girl wailed. "I don't even know if my _buir_ is alive! And I can't find out!"

The two adults traded a startled look and a lifted-chin shake of the head. "Iviin didn't see you before the evacuation?" Paz asked gently, kneeling and shifting Tarre to place a hand on the girl's back.

" _Nayc_! _Kaysh kyrayc_!" Emnellen sobbed, and Jarey rocked her, making soothing sounds.

Paz huffed a breath out his nose, reining in his rage. He was going to smack Iviin for this - not letting his child know he was alive was both stupid and hurtful. He patted the girl's back, making sure his voice was level as he said, "I doubt it, _ad'ika_. I know he survived the battle. He was on killbox closure, and I saw him during the cleanup, he was alive and not seriously injured."

The girl's head popped up, staring at him, and his heart ached for the tear-streaks on her face. " _Haat_?!"

" _Ori'haat_. On my honour," Paz replied, touching his _beskar'ta_ , willing her to hear the sincerity in his voice, and a stray thought zipped through his mind that she could see his seriousness if he wasn't wearing his helmet. He banished it, focussing on the grieving girl.

"We can probably send a message," Jarey said, "It would be good to know who's alive." A shadow passed over their face, and it didn't take much to realise that they had realised that their _buir_ might be injured - or dead - as well.

" _Gedet'ye_!" Emnellen sobbed out, her hands fisting in Jarey's tunic as she burst into furious tears again. Jarey held the girl to her shoulder, rocking and stroking her curly hair. " _Gedet'ye… Ni liniba kar'taylir_."

" _Elek, ad'ika. 'Lek_ ," Paz said, soft, and let his hand rest on Emnellen's back while the storm of tears passed.

* * *

When Emnellen had calmed down a little, Jarey led her up to the dormitory the older children were in, helped her lie down, and held her hand until she fell into a restless nap. Jarey's heart ached at the tear-tracks on the girl's face, at the exhaustion in her small features, and they hoped - because they could only hope - that their child would never suffer this kind of grief. Laying the girl's hand down, they slipped out of the room. Paz was waiting in the hall, the baby baskets at his feet.

"Is she okay?" he asked quietly, and Jarey shook their head. He sighed, and then gritted out, "I'm going to smack Iviin _so kriffing hard_ for this _osik_. Blunt his teeth properly. Not telling his child he's alive, _Ka'ra_." His voice shook with a toxic mix of anger, sadness and disappointment.

"I can't believe he was so… thoughtless," Jarey replied, letting their voice reflect their own feelings - much the same.

Paz huffed out a sharp breath, crackling the vocoder. "If I'd known…" he shook his head. "I would have told her the moment I knew, and helped her grieve if I didn't."

Jarey nodded, solemn, and sighed. "Me too. Emnellen has been so strong, to hold out this long."

The warrior crouched, picking up the babies' baskets. "She shouldn't have had to," he replied, walking along to the nursery. "Even if there's no discipline, Iviin's suitability as a parent will be questioned, and the _Goran-Alor_ will have much to say to him." Setting the baskets down on the nursery table, Paz unlatched and pulled off his helmet, and Jarey startled to see him so easily do what had been anathema a mere week ago. Evidently Paz caught the flinch, and turned to them, meeting their eyes squarely.

"Your helmet…?" they voiced the question tentatively as they lifted Marev out of his basket and laid him down.

"I always knew that I wanted my _riduur_ and children to know my face," Paz replied, and Jarey flicked a look over, seeing his gaze focussed downwards as he changed Tarre's wrap. "Boba's point about being safe with - trusting - my _aliit_ … it made sense. I decided to start small." The awkwardness in his expression eased, and a little smile crept into the corner of his mouth at his unintentional pun. "Literally."

Jarey couldn't help a little giggle, and they turned to look over. Paz's smile was widening, and it lit his face in a way that made Jarey's heart skip a little. They looked back down to Marev, busying their hands. "When I first discussed swearing to the _Resol'nare_ and the Way with my _buir_ , she told me that it was my choice. That my child could know my face. It was - probably the biggest worry I had."

"You were worried?" Paz's tone was… odd, somehow. Tentative. Jarey didn't dare look over and see whatever was in his expression, knowing that he had yet to fully adapt to not wearing a helmet all the time. Knowing that they couldn't take whatever they would see there.

They took a deep breath, and looked down at Marev, focussing on putting on his new wrap. Trying to push down the rising discomfort. "I - if I followed my _buir_ 's choices, not even Marev would see my face. To never have them know my expression… my smile… it seemed harder than I could bear. And I _wanted_ the _Cin Vhetin_ , but Marev _needed_ it. To be safe. And that sacrifice - I would have made it, but…"

"Some sacrifices are too painful, even if we make them willingly," Paz said, a quiet, sad rumble, and there was history there that Jarey didn't know and didn't want to know.

"Yes. It would be too…" they paused, because they didn't know quite how to put it - or even quite how they felt. Their years of abuse - and they could now recognise it as such - were still a cold hole in their chest, despite their family and friends in the Covert, and Jarey was still trying to strip away the layers. Their mind sometimes still tried to send signals of caution about Paz, simply because he was a man, despite the fact that no-one was closer to them, except perhaps their _buir_. But this - saying this was easy enough. "I think, maybe, too lonely."

Paz gently placed a hand on their shoulder, and Jarey lifted their head to see warmth and resolution clear in his eyes, clear enough to take away any doubts that he would be there. "You will not be lonely. Not in this Covert, not among the _Mando'ade_. Not while I can help it."

Warmth flooded in, washing over the ice in their chest, and a smile bloomed, almost involuntary. "Thank you. _Vor entye_."

The warrior ducked his head, and there was a hint of red brightening his cheeks. " _N'entye_." Quickly, he scooped up Tarre and began slowly pacing the room, quietly (and surprisingly tunefully) singing a Mandalorian lullaby Jarey had heard a couple of times before. " _Ta-ab-e ga-na strill-e, sol-us, ta-ad, eh-en; cu-ir, ray-she-a, re-sol, strill-e ga-na taab-e_ …"

Smiling, Jarey tied off Marev's tunic and set him down in his basket, humming a counterpoint.

* * *

Emnellen refused to go near the comms centre for three days, and despite both the adults offering support and willing ears, she did not speak to anyone about her feelings. Already a quiet child, she grew even quieter, and threw herself into being _ori'vod_ to the younger children, especially Isett and Vashka. Given Kirren and Jurir's attachment to Paz, and how Pakla had latched onto Jarey, it was good to see the not-twins have more attention, and Jarey felt guilty that they hadn't noticed how much they were neglecting the boys before now.

A quiet conversation with Paz had reassured them somewhat - Mandalorian children, and Foundlings especially, were more independent than the more regulated and overbearing control that Jarey had been used to in Imperial circles. "Besides which," he added, "You aren't their _buir_. Their _buir_ would be expected to give them the kind of attention you're giving to Marev and Tarre."

"They're babies," Jarey said, then added wryly, "They _need_ attention - and I have to feed them both five or six times a day."

Paz chuckled, and patted their shoulder. "You've done an amazing job, we're lucky you were willing. But about that - E'tad told me that we can start feeding Tarre solids now, so he'll need to be fed a little less."

"Hopefully that will make these a little less sore," Jarey sighed, prodding one breast, which was tight with milk and larger than it had ever been before.

Paz's visor tracked down and then flicked away, and he said, "Hopefully," tone a little strangled, and Jarey realised that he had looked at their breasts - _stared_ , even. That he had probably thought about them in a sexual way. Behind their faceplate, their mouth dropped open - Paz had never done that before, and if he had, it was certainly never so obvious. He coughed, and said quickly, "Anyway, I'm sure that none of the children are expecting you to adopt them."

"Oh," Jarey said, still stuck on him possibly being some flavour of _attracted to them_ , and managed to stammer out, "I hadn't considered that."

The warrior nodded, seizing the new topic eagerly, "Sometimes Foundlings try to catch the eye of a warrior they want to be their parent. Hang around them, try to impress them, ask them for advice and such. If we notice it, we encourage them to be straightforward and speak their mind to the warrior. Often the warrior will be willing to at least mentor them, if not become their parent."

"The children can choose?" Jarey asked, distracted from their previous thoughts. They were confused - almost stunned, because where they'd come from - so focussed on bloodlines and doing things the 'proper Imperial way' - it was almost unthinkable that a child could have a choice over their parent.

"Yes," Paz replied, swift and definite. "The Way of the Mandalore is one of honour, but also one of choice. One chooses to be Mandalorian, to keep the _Resol'nare_ , to hold to honour. Parents cannot disown their children, but children can choose to no longer be their parent's child. _Gar taldin nu jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'waadasla_."

Jarey tilted their helmet at the unfamiliar phrase. "Your blood isn't important, you as a parent… I didn't get the last bit."

" _Ori'waadasla_ \- ' _waadas_ ' is wealth, credits, money. So ' _waadasla_ ' is valuable, and ' _ori'waadasla_ ' is most valuable," Paz replied, the calm 'teaching' tone sliding into his voice a little.

"You as a parent is what's most valuable," Jarey says, checking their understanding, and when Paz nodded, they returned it slowly. "It doesn't matter where you came from, only your choices. What you do. _Cin Vhetin_." A lump began to form in their throat as the realisation slid home. It _didn't matter_. It genuinely _did not matter_ that they had been an Imperial. They gulped, and tears were forming in their eyes, no matter how they blinked. "Even me. A former Imperial - who knows nothing useful - a burden -"

"Hey," said Paz, and his voice was sharp. "You're not a burden. Nobody is a burden. You," - he prodded at their shoulder - "a former Imperial, who is _learning_ , is worth as much as me," - he taps his _beskar'ta_ \- "someone who is of an old House and trained since birth. We are equals. We have equal honour, equal importance, equal _Manda_."

"But I'm not sworn yet," Jarey managed to choke out, trying not to sniffle. The rush of realisation was heady and terrifying, and tears spilled, their chest tight and lips wobbling.

" _Yet_ ," was the reply, absolutely sure, "You already know you're going to." That confidence broke the barriers that Jarey was trying to set up, and they found themself sobbing in Paz's arms again, and he rocked them much the same as they had rocked Emnellen three days ago. His hand came to rest on the crest of their helmet, and Jarey let themself go, absolutely safe and accepted and, for the first time in their life, a true and valued equal.

* * *

It was on the fifth day that Emnellen finally came to Paz and tentatively asked him about sending a message. He smiled beneath his helmet, and clapped the girl on the shoulder. " _Mandokarla, Em'ika_ ," he said, truly proud of her. "You've been very brave."

"Thank you," she said, solemnly, and the small helmet lowered a little, the durasteel covering any expression he might have discerned.

"Come on," Paz said, guiding the girl into the comms centre. Making sure he was calm - no matter how angry he still was at Iviin - would help the girl to deal with her own feelings and get through this. "Jarey and I have discussed it, and we think that a short voice-only message in _Mando'a_ , heavily encrypted, should do the job."

Emnellen nodded slowly, and Paz wondered if she was thinking about what she would say - or if she was regretting asking. "I'll ask about casualties, and ask my _buir_ to send a list of survivors - or would those that marched away be better?" Her voice lifted in question, and she looked up at Paz.

"It would be a shorter list, most likely," he replied. "Unless they got into trouble during scattering, or at Vergesso."

" _Jate_ ," the girl said, squaring her shoulders, and for a moment she seemed older than her ten years. "Please set it up." It took a few minutes to set up the encryption and ready the transmission, but soon he gestured to the voice pickup and she settled in the chair. She took a few long, deep breaths, and pulled her helmet off. Underneath was an expression of absolute, gritted-teeth determination, and she coughed once before pressing the button and saying her message in the solemn, measured tone of a flight controller.

Once she let go of the button and pushed the chair back, she stood, ramrod-straight, and walked out of the room.

* * *

The next morning, there was the blinking light of a received message on the console, and Paz gently led Emnellen in. This time she didn't sit down, but did pull off her helmet. Stepping forward, he put a hand on her shoulder, and she glanced up, worry and hope warring on her face. Again, she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and stabbed the button hard.

" _Ni su'cuyi_ ," came a voice, crackly through the encryption, but it was clear enough that Paz recognised Iviin's voice. Clearly Emnellen did too, as she became absolutely rigid under Paz's hand. " _Al Marev, Yulla, Cerar, bal Gerraki cuy kyrayc. Ni ceta, ad'ika_."

As she let go of the button, Emnellen began to shake and then everything crumpled and she buried her face in her hands. Paz had been expecting this, and he quickly caught her, kneeling to wrap her in a hug. The tears were the same as they had been five days ago, and Paz sighed, knowing that she had just been repressing, not actually processing her feelings - and he knew how well that messed someone up. He let her cry into his collar-piece, and gently patted her hair. "Well done, _Em'ika_. You did well. Let it go."

It was a long while before she lifted her head, but the tension had eased in her face, and she looked him straight in the eye, saying, " _Vor'e, ba'vodu_."

Paz smiled and pulled her in for another hug. " _Ba'gedet'ye, vod'ad - vod'ika_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I made up a nursery rhyme, it counts strill feet, it's to the tune of 'My Hat It Has Three Corners'.
> 
>  _Ba'gedet'ye_ \- 'You're welcome,' similar to the German use of 'bitte'.  
>  _Ba'vodu_ \- Aunt/uncle/parent's sibling.  
>  _"Nayc! Kaysh kyrayc!"_ \- "No! They're dead!" (in this case, 'he is').  
>  _"Haat?!"/"Ori'haat."_ "Really?!"/"Really." Haat is literally 'truth', and ori'haat is literally 'big/best truth', colloquially meaning 'Completely true/really/I swear/no bull'.  
>  _Gedet'ye_ \- Please.  
>  _"Gedet'ye… Ni liniba kar'tayli."_ \- "Please… I need to know."  
>  _Elek_ \- Yes. Can be shortened to _'lek_ , essentially 'yeah'.  
> 'Blunting the teeth' is a concept from Goethecite's Welcome to the Void (https://archiveofourown.org/works/24379777/chapters/58801954). It is a form of violent social discipline for a tribal culture, as an alternative to the more common (on Earth) practise of shunning. From the description in the story: '…a warrior who has lashed out another clan member disproportionately or harmed the clan intentionally may be brought to heel [severely beaten] by more senior warriors… Blunting teeth is intended to be done in love… it ends with the victim being comforted by clan members and friends. That combination of love and violence is a particularly Mandalorian affectation.'  
>  _"Ta-ab-e ga-nar strill-e, sol-us, ta-ad, eh-en; cu-ir, ray-she-a, re-sol, strill-e ga-nar taab-e…"_ \- 'Strills have feet, one, two, three; four, five, six, feet strills have'. A nursery rhyme; it counts strill feet, it's to the tune of 'My Hat It Has Three Corners'.  
>  _"Gar taldin nu jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'waadasla."_ \- 'No-one cares who your parent is, only the parent you'll be.' Literally, 'Your blood is not important; you as a parent is the most valuable.'  
>  _"Ni su'cuyi, al Marev, Yulla, Cerar, bal Gerraki cuy kyrayc. Ni ceta, ad'ika."_ \- 'I'm alive, but Marev, Yulla, Cerar, and Gerraki are dead. I'm sorry, little one.'  
>  _Vod'ad_ \- Niece/nephew/sibling's child/child of a close friend. _Vod'ade_ is the plural form.


	15. The Vow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter…???!!! I couldn't resist.

It had been seventeen days since Jaa'lir and Boba left, and they had received nothing other than Iviin's apology message. They carried on with the usual routine - Jarey's training was onto actual strikes and katas now, not just defence - but everyone could feel the anxiety growing.

Emnellen had begun to process, and she had continued to be _ori'vod_ for the not-twins. It helped slow down their more worrying ideas - such as deciding to see what happened to a blaster cartridge when put in the very hot upper terrace pools. Unfortunately, she had done nothing to dissuade their unauthorised attempts to get into _Slave I_. It hadn't resulted in injuries, but only because Boba had turned the more aggressive countermeasures off. Only Paz threatening to replace their weapons practise time with cleaning - and then following through - had got them to stop. Jarey had a sneaking suspicion that they would try again when the bounty hunter was around, if only so they could learn how the countermeasures worked.

Jurir and Kirren had both taken to following Paz everywhere (admittedly for different reasons), and got into fights when he didn't pay enough attention to one or the other of them. Kotep was getting increasingly clingy and had several times tried to climb into one or the other of the babies' baskets - making them both more irritable and meaning they cried more often. Even Pakla's sunny personality was a getting a little flat.

All this meant that the sound of starship engines, and the hangar doors beginning to open, was incredibly welcome. Jarey, who was in the nursery putting the babies down for a nap, was alerted by Emnellen coming running in, the not-twins on her heels. She screeched to a halt as she saw the babies in their baskets. 

"The _Balac's_ back!" she said in a stage-whispered blurt of excitement, bouncing on her toes. "C'mon, _ba'vodu_!" Jarey couldn't help but feel their excitement too, their face breaking into a grin, and they hurriedly covered the babies, shooed Kotep out of the room, and followed the children towards the hangar.

When they arrived in the hangar, Paz was standing at the top of the staircase, fully armed and armoured, his cannon ready. It had been weeks since Jarey had seen him in full armour - almost always in partial armour or only helmet, vambraces and boots - and this time, whilst he was fearsome, there was also something incredibly attractive about it - his easy competence with the weapons, the smooth confidence with which he moved, the protective stance in front of the children of their _aliit_. The hysterical thought skipped through their mind that perhaps that was what made you Mandalorian, finding someone in armour attractive, and they were abruptly glad for their own helmet, because they felt themself go bright red.

In the hangar proper, the _Balac_ was settling down in space _dorn_. The cockpit was clearly visible, and Jarey could clearly see Jaa'lir in the pilot's seat, Boba beside them as co-pilot, and then their heart jumped because clearly visible behind the two was the golden helmet of their _buir_.

As the engines powered down, the ramp was descending, and before it was even halfway down, there was a warrior in black-and-purple armour sliding down and racing towards the stairs. Emnellen made a strangled noise and rushed down the stairs towards him, because it was Iviin, her _buir_. He knelt and she cannoned into him, and he yanked his helmet off, and they were both crying and he was apologising again and again.

Paz had stowed his cannon into rest position, and was making his way slowly down the stairs. Jarey followed him, but their Foundlings seemed reluctant to come down. Senaar and Reku followed the _Goran-Alor_ down the ramp, with Boba and Jaa'lir last down. 

" _Su cuy, vode_ ," Paz greeted the warriors, and then turned to clasp Boba and Jaa'lir's arms. Lastly, he turned to the _Goran-Alor_ , giving a quick bow. " _Goran-Alor, su cuy'gar bal olarom_."

"Greetings, Paz Vizsla," replied the _goran_ , and Jarey suddenly noticed the tension in her shoulders, the flicker of her visor towards Jarey - the body language that clearly read as worry.

Stepping forward, Jarey extended their hands, saying, " _Su cuy, buir_ ," letting their relief and happiness show in their voice. "The babies are down for their nap, but I'd be happy to introduce you to your _bu'ad_ as soon as they're awake." The tension dropped out of their _buir_ 's frame, and she stepped forward, catching Jarey's hand and gently bringing their foreheads together. The simple, intimate gesture made the worry melt away - their _buir_ and some more of the warriors of their _aliit_ were here, and soon the rest would come. Their Tribe would be one again.

"When can we expect the others?" Paz was asking Jaa'lir, apparently thinking the same.

The _baar'ur_ flicked a look over to Boba, who shrugged and flicked a couple of handsigns to them. "We expect Briika and Atin in the _Carud_ to be here sometime today, but the _Aay'han_ with the Elders, Tracyn, and the rest of the _ad'ike_ will probably take another two to three days."

Jarey turned away from their buir for a moment, saying to Paz, "We'll have to clear another set of dormitories for the other _ad'ike_ , but the adults can go in the bedrooms in the first corridor." Paz nodded, and Jarey turned back to their _buir_.

Their _buir_ was tilting their head in the particular way that said that she was trying to figure something out, and Jarey knew that there were probably narrowed eyes and a calculating expression behind their _buir_ 's faceplate. They deflected, because questions were for later. "Come, it'll be midmeal in around half-an-hour. You must be tired, please come to the common rooms."

* * *

Late in the afternoon, Jarey was in the nursery, feeding Marev. They had fed Tarre and set him down in his basket, which was resting on the bed for the moment. Kotep was curled up around the basket, making happy chittering noises every time Tarre waved a chubby brown hand at it, and Jarey couldn't help but laugh.

"There you are," came a voice from the doorway, and Jarey turned to see their _buir_ there. The _goran_ had taken off her heavy fur cloak and was carrying no tools, but she still carried the weight of the Covert on her shoulders. Jarey gestured her in with a little nod, still rocking back and forth as Marev suckled.

" _Buir_ , this is Marev, _ner ad_ ," they said quietly, turning so that Marev's little face was clearly visible. "He's just over a month old now."

Their _buir_ moved over to them, shucking off her gloves, gently touching the soft little cheek and brushing the downy black hair. "Is he strong?"

"No health issues whatsoever,” Jarey replied, nodding. “The birth was, I'm told, very normal and there were no complications. It helped that Boba brought E'tad here."

The _goran_ cocked her head, her tone level. "I heard some of what went on, during the journey here. But I had to see my _bu'ad_ with my own eyes," and there was something painful in her voice that Jarey didn't want to know the reason for.

As she finished speaking, Marev made a mumbling noise and let go, making faces that Jarey now knew meant 'I'm done with food for now'. Jarey transferred him to their other arm, and with now-practised ease, wriggled back into their bra and tunic, slinging a cloth over their shoulder and patting Marev's back until he burped. "He's done feeding, would you like to hold him?"

"I… yes," came the almost-hesitant reply from their _buir_ , and carefully, Jarey leaned over and settled their son in his _ba'buir_ 's arms. The _goran_ seemed nonplussed for a moment, staring down the child, but then Marev reached for her visor, clearly aware, and the _goran_ gave a quiet little laugh.

Fishing in one of their beltpouches, Jarey pulled out the still-wrapped mythosaur necklace that their _buir_ had given them for Marev when they left Nevarro. " _Buir_ \- you need to give this to him."

"You were supposed to, in my absence," came the reply, stern, but with no real bite.

Jarey smiled, and let their love for their _buir_ fill their voice as they answered. "It's your right, _buir_. I couldn't do it without you."

"Very well," their _buir_ replied, affection in her tone, and held out her hand. Jarey unwrapped the necklace, putting it in the _Goran-Alor_ 's hand. With infinite care, she looped the chain over Marev's head. "Marev Paraktan, I recognise you as _Mando'ad_ , a member of the Nevarro Covert, and my _bu'ad_." She leaned down, and the golden brow-ridge touched Marev's little forehead as gentle as a butterfly's kiss.

* * *

As predicted, the _Carud_ arrived late that evening, and the _Aay'han_ just before latemeal on the third day. The biggest common room was opened up to the balconies, and everyone was moving in and out, talking and relaxing in the sunset light. The evening was bright with relieved laughter, the Tribe almost together again after nearly two months, only Din missing. The new additions, Marev and Tarre, were being passed around and introduced, and the children who had not been at the Covert were fascinated by Kotep, so it was happily rolling around in the middle of them, having its belly petted. Even Boba and E'tad were present, unobtrusive in a corner by Jaa'lir and the Elders.

Paz was content, properly happy, for the first time in a long time. His son was secure in his arms. His Tribe were back together, they had a new Covert, and they had new alliances. There was a _Mand'alor_ , and if he was lucky, he'd meet her soon. The only thing that could be better - he glanced over to where Jarey was talking seriously with Senaar and Reku as they rocked Marev - was if he had some way of knowing how Jarey felt, without upsetting them or overstepping his boundaries.

He was distracted from his thoughts by a call for attention, and looked around to see the _Goran-Alor_ standing, one hand up. Flanking her on one side were the two Elders, with Jaa'lir and Boba on the other. Everyone quieted down, and after a moment, she began. 

"Many things have happened since we were last together. We must both mourn and celebrate. First," and her voice grew solemn, "We remember our _vode_ who have fallen in the defence of our Tribe. _Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuu_ m. Yulla Kebrika. Cerar Trehalt. Marev Orilin of Clan Morut. Gerraki Doru of Clan Cinciri. _Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la_."

There was a long silence, and Paz bowed his head along with the others, repeating the names. He could hear faint murmurs as some said prayers to the _Manda_ or gods or the Force. He'd not been especially close to those who had marched away, but they were _aliit_ and familiar, and their absence was a gap in the Tribe. The children now outnumbered the adults, and it was worrying for their security.

"Yulla Kebrika had two children, Tobyl and Galaar," the Goran-Alor continued after a while. "Children, is there anyone you would wish to ask to be your guardians? Is there anyone willing to act as _buir_ or _ba'vodu_ to them since she has marched away?"

The two children were shaking their heads, Tobyl burying his face in his older sister's shoulder. Galaar said quietly, " _Ba'vodu_ Cerar was to care for us, but he's…" she took a gasping breath, and the children around her hugged her and patted her shoulders in sympathy. Paz's heart went out to her - her mother and her uncle both gone, leaving her and her brother adrift. He hoped the Elders had spoken with them during the time since the battle.

The _Goran-Alor_ was looking around, and when none of the adults moved, said, "You will be under my care and the care of the Tribe, as Foundlings. You were born _Mando'ade_ , and until you swear to the Creed, you will be children of the Covert." Galaar nodded, looking miserable. There was another silence, which only the _Goran-Alor_ dared break. "Now. Jarey and Paz, come forward and introduce your children."

Paz stood, coming to stand facing the Tribe, seeing Jarey do the same. The eyes were not on them, but on the bundles in their arms, and he felt inordinately proud of both his son and his Tribe. He traded a look with Jarey, and they stepped forward. 

" _Ni tenganaa ner ad_ , Marev,” they began, saying the traditional words confidently. “I will raise him as a _Mando'ad_ , in the _Resol'nare_ and the Way of the Mandalore. I bore him, and he has no other parent." There was a murmur of approval, and Paz could hear the smile Jarey was wearing under their helmet.

After a moment, Paz followed suit. " _Ni tenganaa ner ad_ , Tarre Vizsla. I will raise him as a _Mando'ad_ , in the _Resol'nare_ and the Way of the Mandalore. He was discovered in a shipping crate from Chora VII Station, when Kotep would not leave the crate alone. We know nothing of his blood or family; he was either abandoned or gifted to the _Manda_ in the hope of survival, so I have adopted him."

There was another murmur of approval at that, and then E'tad piped up from the back. "Paz Vizsla, that is not completely true. We know nothing of his family, but we have some information in regards to his bloodline."

" _What_ ," snapped at least three people. Paz couldn't, his voice frozen over with dread and his stomach dropping to his boots. What information was this? Why hadn't E'tad shared it? And he realised that he hadn't asked anything about his son's bloodline, other than him having no risk factors for genetic disease. He'd only cared that Tarre was healthy and growing well.

"Your information, droid," said the _Goran-Alor_ , her voice and posture stiff with anger and shock, the Elders mirroring her. Jaa'lir had their head in their hands.

E'tad's head tilted, seemingly confused. "Tarre Vizsla has the Kaminoan/Fett clone trooper markers in his DNA. It is certain that he is the child or grandchild of one of the clone troopers."

" _What_?!" In an instant, all the adults were on their feet, and Paz instinctively clutched Tarre close to his breastplate. This was _his son_ , regardless of DNA. Tarre griped a little, and Paz rocked him for a moment.

Something flicked in his peripheral, and then Boba was there beside him, staring down at Tarre with a strange intensity, and Paz turned to interpose his armoured shoulder between his son and the _beroya_. Boba put his hands up, placating, and when Paz didn't move, popped his helmet off and stared straight into Paz's visor, saying in a forcibly calm tone, "I'll make no claim, Paz. He's your son. I just want to see if it's true." For a long moment, Paz stared into his eyes - amber-brown, the same as his son's - and then he deflated. Boba had been honourable and had openly stated that he made no claim. He turned back, and the bounty hunter - the _clone_ \- looked down at the baby, one gloved hand reaching out and gently brushing back the blanket. "Yes, it is. I saw thousands of clones in their growth tubes. He has the look."

"You're sure," Paz said, wondering - "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I wasn't going to say anything when I had nothing but a suspicion - and he was clearly loved and well-cared-for," Boba replied, something half-nostalgic, half-bitter in his voice. "Well, at least you can be sure he hasn't got any genetic defects from that side."

"How do you know?" blurted Paz, stunned. He knew next-to-nothing about the clone troopers.

"The Kaminoans cleared any defects they could find in the genome," Boba replied, and the bitter was much heavier now. "All of them were altered extensively - except for me."

Paz breathed out, the reason taking shape. "Because you were your father's _son_."

"Yes," the _beroya_ said, "As Tarre is your son. _Aliit ori'shya taldin_. I would be _ba'vodu_ to him if you were willing - I know none of my _vod'ade_ … or any of the remaining _vode_." There was something in his eyes and voice, and Paz realised in a sinking moment that it was loneliness. Boba Fett had nobody - for all his reputation and feats, even though he was technically _Alor_ of House Mereel, he had no family and few friends.

He was reaching out to Paz - had extended trust even though Paz could shoot him down. He wanted - _needed_ a family. In a moment, the thought crystallised to decision. "Would you be my brother?"

Boba's face didn't change, but his eyes flickered with emotion, eventually settling on a tentative warmth, and he nodded, "I would."

Fumbling slightly, Paz unbuckled his helmet one-handed and slid it off, clipping it to his belt. There were gasps around him, but he ignored them, extending his hand. Boba caught his wrist in the warrior's clasp. Paz smiled, and said, "Boba Fett - _ni kar'tayl gai sa'vod_."

" _Ni kar'tayl gai sa'vod_ , Paz Vizsla," replied Boba, and stepped forward. Paz bent to touch their foreheads together, and found himself grinning. Not only was he a declared father, he had a new brother also.

* * *

Jarey was grinning fit to burst. Tarre would have a truly fearsome _ba'vodu_ , Paz would have more of the family that he missed, and Boba - well, he got family as well, and the trust that he seemed to want so badly.

"This seems a good time to say that House Mereel has extended an alliance - _Tom'yc Aliit_ \- to the Nevarro Tribe," said their buir, an edge of sarcasm in her tone. "And that this base will be acting as our Covert for the foreseeable future."

"Sorry, _Goran-Alor_ ," said the two men in unison, and Jarey giggled at the chastened tone from the two warriors. They looked over at Jarey with identical _it's not funny_ looks, and they struggled to suppress further laughter at how much the two looked like brothers already.

"Also to Clan Vizsla," Boba added, and the _Goran-Alor_ nodded. He turned to face the rest of the Tribe, saying seriously, "I am sworn to the _Mand'alor_ , Bo-Katan Kryze, and she has vowed to rebuild our people. The bonds of friendship and alliance must be forged anew."

" _Mand'alor_ Kryze still lives?" Tracyn asked, and there was naked hope in the old warrior's voice. "I swore to her on the day she took up the Darksaber. I would have been at her side, had I known."

"She has only recently come out of hiding," Boba said, and Jarey realised that they had never heard the firm, subtly commanding tone from the bounty hunter. He was more than he let show. "Our people were broken apart in the Great Purge; _n'entye_."

"We begin our rebuilding with these two children," said the _Goran-Alor_ , and her helmet turned towards Tarre, and then to Marev. "Now, much has happened. Are there further matters to raise?"

 _It's time_ , said something in Jarey's mind and heart. It's time. For a long moment, they breathed - in and out - and let it settle. It was time to make the choice that had been in front of them since they met their buir. Since they woke up in the Covert. Since Paz had stepped past them in the tunnel. Since they had looked down at their swelling belly and decided they had to leave for the sake of their child. _Cin Vhetin_ and the _Resol'nare_ and the Way. They took a deep breath, and released it. 

"I would swear my vows, _buir_ ," they said, their conviction firm in their voice. "And I would leave behind my birth-family's name and take up yours."

"You are ready, _ner ad_?" Their _buir_ asked, serious, and Jarey nodded. They were absolutely sure, but there was a terrifying mix of hope and nervousness, joy and worry, swirling in their stomach, shaking their hands and trying to make them reconsider. Steeling themself, they turned to Paz, lifting Marev, and he nodded as he understood. Tarre was handed off to a surprised Boba, and Paz stepped forward to gather Marev into his arms. Jarey nodded a thank-you, and he smiled encouragingly in return.

Now was the hard bit. Taking another breath, Jarey unclipped and pulled off their helmet, setting it at their feet, and then dropped to one knee. Their _buir_ stepped forward, reaching out their hands, and Jarey set their hands in their _buir_ 's.

"You came to us under Refuge," she said, grave and formal, but there was no hiding the pride in her voice. "You became my child and made the choice to stay, to undergo the _Ca'nara be'Gaanade_ and become _Mando'ad_. You have borne your child and vowed that he will be raised _Mando'ad_. You choose now to swear to the _Resol'nare_ and gain your _Manda_."

"I will make this choice," Jarey said. They knew the form of the vows, but had not practised - had not even thought to swear them today, but it was the right time.

"Speak after me," said their _buir_ , and Jarey did so, repeating the words, their heart swelling. Strength and love and support formed around them like a _beskar_ cuirass, memories coming to light as they spoke the words of the vows.

" _Ni ven ijaati ner aliit_."  
I will honour my Tribe. Their _buir_ , Jaa'lir and the Elders at her shoulders, Paz and Boba holding their children, and all of the warriors and Foundlings surrounding them.

" _Ni ven aranovo ner aliit_."  
I will defend my Tribe. The hard mornings in the training rooms, Elder Ruusan teaching them to shoot.

" _Ni ven kuti beskar'gam_."  
I will wear armour. Marev Orilin's armour, soon to be reforged - they would wear it with honour, as they had promised.

" _Ni ven ba'juri Mando'ade_."  
I will raise my children as Mandalorians. Marev, in Paz's arms, their precious child, would be raised with honour, respect, and strength.

" _Ni ven jorhaa'i Mando'a_."  
I will speak Mando'a. Learning words from every member of the Tribe, sitting in the _karyai_ and learning pronunciation.

" _Ni ven shekemi Te Mand'alor_."  
I will follow the Mand'alor. The conviction in Boba's voice as he spoke of her, the hope in Tracyn's. The stories of _Mand'alor’e_.

" _Ke'moti, Mando'ad. Ner ad, Jarey Yai'jagor_."

Stand, Mandalorian.

Jarey rose, and there was new strength in their heart, new steadiness in their stance, their back straight and chin held high. They felt - new. Wiped clean, like the white field of the _Cin Vhetin_. All the worries, all the still-there thoughts about Orsic somehow tracking them down and taking Marev, were sloughed off. The anxieties that they were unworthy, a burden, useless, had fallen away. The love of their _buir_ , the love and acceptance and support of their friends and clanmates had lifted them. Their hope for the future - for their son - rose above everything.

" _Buir_ ," they said, and a surge of joy swelled, because now they bore the name of the woman they owed so much to. " _Vor entye par gai_."

" _N'entye, ner ad_ ," replied their buir, and she stepped forward, enveloping Jarey in the warm hug that had comforted them when they realised that they truly loved their _buir_ , that they were truly her child. Jarey lingered for a moment, resting in their _buir_ 's caring strength, then pulled back and tapped their forehead against the brow of their _buir_ 's helmet in a firm _kov'nyn_. Their _buir_ laughed, and then said, quiet and absolutely sincere, " _Ner ad - ni kar'tayli darasuum_."

Then the Elders were stepping forward and congratulating both Jarey and their buir, Jaa'lir enthusiastically hugging them, Paz and Boba leaning in for quick _kov'nyn_ around the babies, and then their Foundlings and Kotep swarming them with hugs and slobbery licks. The other children and warriors gathered around, giving hearty congratulations, handshakes, hugs.

Here, they were accepted and loved and supported. They had a name, a Tribe and _aliit_. They were free of the pain and abuse and fear they had suffered. They had strength, honour, knowledge. Choices. A _future_ that they had never had before. A great flood of happiness and joy and pride and optimism rose, and tears spilled as the emotion overflowed.

Here, they made their stand. They had made their choices, made their vows, and _they were Mandalorian_. This was their people.

This was their home.

* * *

_Ba'jur bal beskar'gam,  
_ _Ara'nov bal aliit,  
_ _Mando'a bal Mand'alor -  
_ _An vencuyan mhi._

Education and Armour,  
Defence and Tribe,  
Language and Leader -  
Because of all these, we survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been a ride! It seems appropriate to finish on the longest chapter in the fic (by quite some margin). I know, there was no kissing, but this was always meant to be about Jarey's journey to being a Mandalorian, more than anything else.
> 
> Yes, that was a reveal I'd been planning almost since Tarre's arrival.
> 
> Once again, a huge thank you to those who have read, left kudos, commented, and especially to those who have contributed: CoffeeQuill, FictionQuxxn, and CobraOnTheCob, and the Mando and Mando'a Discords. Special thanks to sootnose and marmota_b for their continued comments!
> 
> Don't worry, there is more to come. I was writing Chapter Eleven when I got the sinking suspicion that there was going to be a sequel, and… well. There's a reason this is a Series. Please subscribe for further stories!
> 
>  _Olarom_ \- Welcome.  
>  _Carud_ \- Smoke.  
>  _Aay'han_ \- Bittersweet moment of mourning and joy.  
>  _"Ni kar'tayl gai sa'vod."_ \- 'I know your name as my sibling' (in this case, brother). An adaption of the adoption vow.  
>  _"Vor entye par gai."_ \- 'Thank you for the name'.  
>  _"Ni kar'tayli darasuum."_ \- 'I love you', literally 'I hold [you] in my heart forever' ( _kar'tayli_ is 'know/hold in the heart', and _darasuum_ is 'forever'). Canonically (Republic Commando: Triple Zero), the phrase is _Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum_ , but I dropped the _gar_ /'you', partly because it flowed better, and partly at the advice of the Mando'a Discord server (thanks peeps!).


End file.
